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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27365758">Force Majeure</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahwrites89/pseuds/hannahwrites89'>hannahwrites89</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Good Wife (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Drama, Drama &amp; Romance, F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:35:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>30,945</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27365758</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahwrites89/pseuds/hannahwrites89</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Force Ma·jeure noun. 1: Superior or irresistible force. 2: An event or effect that cannot be reasonably anticipated or controlled. Alicia &amp; Will. Starts off seven months after Alicia left L/G, with flashbacks. When Alicia gets attacked by the husband of her client, Will happens to find her. The event and the aftermath of it bring up conflicting feelings in both Will and Alicia, who are still on bad terms, even though the attack forcibly brings them closer together.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alicia Florrick/Will Gardner</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Beautiful Morning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story was originally published by me on Fanfiction.net, back in 2013. I stopped mid-way, but finally I've decided to upload the story here as well. There might be slight adjustments (in terms of correcting grammar and wording as I go along) but it should be 95% overlap with what I published before.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Force Majeure</strong>
</p><p>Chapter 1 – Beautiful Morning</p><p>
  <em>Oh, what a beautiful morning. Oh, what a beautiful day. I've got this wonderful feeling, everything's going my way.</em>
</p><p>– Oscar Hammerstein II</p><p>
  <strong>Thursday, 6:45 AM </strong>
</p><p><em>Oh, Cary you've got to be kidding me</em>, is all I can think as I hear him explain the situation.</p><p>"Look. I wouldn't ask you this if I didn't have to."</p><p>"Well, how sick are you?" I ask, while trying to pour myself a glass of orange juice with one hand, juggling my phone in the other.</p><p>"Let's just say I spend more time in the bathroom than in bed," Cary answers. His voice is raspy and muted. He does sound sick. "</p><p>Ok. That's enough information. I get it," I reply and hurry back to my bedroom to gather my stuff. "But can't we ask one of the associates?" I catch my reflection in the mirror. God, I'm not even wearing any makeup yet.</p><p>"Alicia… They don't stand a chance against David Lee. You know that. We can't afford to make any mistakes."</p><p>I sit down on my bed and put on my shoes. "Yes, I know. But do you really think I am the best candidate to do Lockhart/Gardner?"</p><p>"No one from our firm is. Look, I don't know what happened that night of the class action between you and Will, but you'll just have to get over it. You can't avoid going there forever."<em> I do know what happened that night of the class action,</em> I think to myself. But we had decided to never talk about that again. Either way, Cary's right. I grab my laptop and charger and walk back to the kitchen.</p><p>"I know," I finally reply. "So, what's her name again?" I manage to get my laptop in my bag with one hand.</p><p>"Sandra Dilaney. You met her. Jenna will fill you in on the details."</p><p>"OK, I'll call her." I answer. I grab a pen and paper to jot down her name, but when I do my elbow pushes against something. I look up but I'm too late. The glass tips over the counter. With a loud bang, the glass hits the kitchen tiles and snaps into pieces. The orange juice streams over the kitchen tiles. "Shit," I mutter.</p><p>"You ok?" I hear Cary through my phone.</p><p>"Yeah…" I say as I observe the mess. "I'm fine. I call you when we're done."</p><p>"Ok. Talk to you later."</p><p>Orange juice everywhere. I glance at my watch. I'm already late. Great. Just… great.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>Thank you for reading! Preview for next chapter: on to Lockhart/Gardner...</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. David & Dilaney</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Force Ma·jeure noun. 1: Superior or irresistible force. 2: An event or effect that cannot be reasonably anticipated or controlled. Alicia &amp; Will. Starts off seven months after Alicia left L/G, with flashbacks. When Alicia gets attacked by the husband of her client, Will happens to find her. The event and the aftermath of it bring up conflicting feelings in both Will and Alicia, who are still on bad terms, even though the attack forcibly brings them closer together.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This story takes place a good seven months after the season 4 finale and is about Alicia and Will (or what's left of it). This means that Alicia is with Cary at "Florrick, Agos and Associates." Will is still at L/G. Even though the story picks up seven months after, I will definitely go back to what happened in those passed seven months with flashbacks. Everything else you need to know will be explained as the story progresses!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Force Majeure</strong>
</p>
<p>Chapter 2 – David &amp; Dilaney</p>
<p><em>"Thou hast seen nothing yet."<br/><br/></em>– Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, <em>Don Quixote</em></p>
<p>
  <strong>Thursday, 4:19 PM</strong>
</p>
<p>I can't believe this is actually happening. Back in the all too familiar elevator once again. I look at my client – or Cary's client, to be precise – Sandra Dilaney, standing next to me, fumbling with her hands. She's nervous.</p>
<p>"I know, you were expecting Cary, but I know this firm and we're gonna do well in these negotiations," I say in an attempt to make her feel better.</p>
<p>She looks at me. "Alicia, it's not that." She brushes her long blond hair behind her ears. "It's just… I hate to say it, but George always hated women like you. Strong and professional, you know? It makes him… <em>aggressive. </em>It would have just been better if I'd be here with Cary. He won't like you."</p>
<p>"I think, he wouldn't have liked either of us," I smile. "And it doesn't matter what he likes or doesn't like. What matters is that we're here to get what you deserve. We're going to be fine. I promise."</p>
<p>She nods and gives me a faint smile. She doesn't buy it. And frankly, neither do I. I'm terribly unprepared, and I hate myself for it.</p>
<p>Luckily, this time I don't have to go up against Will. That definitely didn't work out the last time I was here. Or it worked out too well, maybe. Either way, the few times we had seen each other in court after that hadn't been pretty. We screwed up, we knew it and had a silent agreement never to talk about it again. And that's that. Here's to hoping I won't run into him. The less I see of him, the better.</p>
<p>All I know is that he won't be in these negotiations. David doesn't need him to fight me. Besides, David thrives on anger and performs best when he's annoyed and pissed off, so today's negotiations will be magical.</p>
<p>
  <strong>Thursday, 4:23 PM</strong>
</p>
<p>"I'm not looking forward to this," Sandra says as we sit down in the waiting area. "Do I have to sit next to him?"</p>
<p>"We'll be sitting on the other side of the table. You'll sit next to me, and I'll do the talking." I look around the floor, and I realize I'm constantly checking if Will's around. I should stop that.</p>
<p>"He will humiliate me," Sandra sighs.</p>
<p>I look back at her. <em>Focus, Alicia.</em> "He might try to act out, yes. But it won't get him anywhere." I give her a reassuring nod.</p>
<p>Then, all of a sudden, her eyes grow wide. "Are you OK?" I ask.</p>
<p>"What the <em>hell</em>, Sandra?" I suddenly hear a low male voice behind us. I turn around, and then see why Sandra was staring. That must be Mr. Dilaney.</p>
<p>"Why are we doing this?" He bursts in the waiting area and walks straight over to Sandra. She leans back in her chair, but he towers over to his wife. He looks dangerous.</p>
<p>"You don't want this. I know you don't. Do you actually think I would let you go like that, huh? <em>You </em>fucked up what we had. I didn't. So why are we here? Negotiating? About what exactly?"</p>
<p>"Mr. Dilaney," I interrupt. "This is not the time." He doesn't even grant me a look.</p>
<p>"Oh, I think, this is <em>just</em> the time. Don't you, Sandra?"</p>
<p>"Mr. Dilaney," I repeat again and get up from my chair. "Please take a step back."</p>
<p>He gives the both of us a violent look. "You don't need to tell me what to do."</p>
<p>"Sir, don't make me ask again. I'll have to call security." I look around to find someone to help me. But the receptionist left her desk, and I don't know how to get security in here. Now I get what Sandra meant when she said 'aggressive'.</p>
<p>"George, please," Sandra mutters.</p>
<p>I think of what to do, but then, I suddenly hear a voice I know all too well.</p>
<p>"Oh, would you look at that!"</p>
<p>I don't have to turn around to know who just made an appearance.</p>
<p>"If it isn't Alicia Florrick gracing us with her presence." .</p>
<p>I turn around. "David," I then greet him and offer him a small, polite smile. Only he is capable of squeezing that much sarcasm in one sentence</p>
<p>"All grown up and independent so I see?" He says, lifting one eyebrow and grinning cynically. </p>
<p>I don't answer that one and just give him one of my stares in return.</p>
<p>"Ms. Dilaney," David continues and shakes Sandra's hand. Mr. Dilaney seems to have calmed down now that David joined us.</p>
<p>"I don't believe you've been properly introduced to my client," David then says, gesturing at the man next to him. David looks small and insignificant next to Dilaney. And Dilaney isn't even that broad or muscular himself. Instead, he has a normal posture, but there's something about him that just makes me want to back off. Dark, almost black eyes stare at me.</p>
<p>"Let me introduce you to Alicia Florrick," David continues. "An expert at… Shall we say… <em>hand holding</em>?"</p>
<p>I purse my lips at that sneer.</p>
<p>David happily continues. "And since I'm an expert at well, everything else really, we have nothing to worry about."</p>
<p>"Good afternoon," is the only thing I decide to say to Dilaney in return. </p>
<p>He just stares at me and barely lets me shake his hand. "So, you're the one telling my wife what to do, huh?" His voice is cold and flat.</p>
<p>"I'm one of your wife's lawyers," I reply calmly.</p>
<p>"You put her up to this?" There's a darkness to the sound of his voice that creeps me out.</p>
<p>"I'm here to represent my client and her wishes," I just state in an attempt to sound professional and calm. I don't know what to do with this guy.</p>
<p>David sighs impatiently. "Hate to interrupt your little one-on-one, but let's get going, shall we?"</p>
<p>He leads the way to the conference room and holds the door for us. I roll my eyes at him and walk into the room. Sandra and I sit down next to each other, David and Dilaney at the other side.</p>
<p>"Oh, Alicia, this is going to be so much <em>fun," </em>David says, crossing his legs and folding his hands together.</p>
<p>"It's my highlight of the day, David," I reply dryly.</p>
<p>"I have to say, if they had given me a heads up I'd be up against <em>you,</em>" he continues as he takes a bowl filled with colored candies from the cabinet behind him. "I wouldn't have taken so much time preparing."</p>
<p>I just ignore that and get my files out of my bag.</p>
<p>"How long is this going to take?" I hear Dilaney ask David.</p>
<p>"Oh, not long I'm sure," David replies as he pushes the bowl to the middle of the table. Then he gives me another one of his triumphant smiles.</p>
<p>"M&amp;M's, anyone?"</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Thank you for reading, let me know what you think :) </strong>
</p>
<p><em>Preview for next chapter: </em>Dilaney certainly lives up to his reputation.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Black Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Force Ma·jeure noun. 1: Superior or irresistible force. 2: An event or effect that cannot be reasonably anticipated or controlled. Alicia &amp; Will. Starts off seven months after Alicia left L/G, with flashbacks. When Alicia gets attacked by the husband of her client, Will happens to find her. The event and the aftermath of it bring up conflicting feelings in both Will and Alicia, who are still on bad terms, even though the attack forcibly brings them closer together.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This story takes place a good seven months after the season 4 finale and is about Alicia and Will. This means that Alicia is with Cary at "Florrick, Agos and Associates." Will is still at L/G. Even though the story picks up seven months after, I will definitely go back to what happened in those passed seven months with flashbacks. Everything else you need to know will be explained as the story progresses!</p><p>Massive thanks to my beta RomanticSoutherner (Jen) over at Fanfiction, for amazing tips, patience and motivation.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Force Majeure</strong>
</p><p>Chapter 3 – Black Out</p><p>
  <em>Tell me that you'll open your eyes</em>
</p><p>– Snow Patrol</p><p>
  <strong>Thursday, 5:26 PM</strong>
</p><p>Oh, my God. I don't think I can stand sitting opposite David any longer. Just the <em>way </em>he eats those M&amp;M's. How he nibbles on them, and then cracks them with his mouth half open….</p><p>But David and his eating habits are the least of my worries at this point. It's Sandra I'm worried about. She's intimidated. Not by David, but Dilaney.</p><p>"Perhaps its time for a short break?" I propose.</p><p>Dilaney's dark eyes have been shooting violent looks from across the room and they send a shiver down my spine each time.</p><p>"Tired already?" David smirks at me.</p><p>"Pacing myself," I reply and look over at Sandra who gives me a thankful smile.</p><p>"Can't we just end it right here?" Dilaney interrupts, kicking his feet against the table leg. He gestures at Sandra. "She's not even enjoying it. Backing off because you finally realize how ridiculous this is? Look what you're doing to her."</p><p>Now he's addressing me. "Huh? Forcing her to be here, to get money out of this. This isn't what she wants. It's pathetic really."</p><p>"Sir I…" I don't even get to finish my sentence because he shoots up from his chair and bends over the table.</p><p>"Lost for words now?" Then, he violently spits a <em>fuck you </em>in my face.</p><p>Startled I lean back in my chair. This is getting ridiculous. What else am I supposed to say? I look at David, hoping he feels some desire to control his client.</p><p>"George, let's get some fresh air." David gets the hint, <em>Thank God.</em> He gets up as well and they both leave the conference room.</p><p>I look back at Sandra. "How are you doing?" I ask once it's just the two of us.</p><p>She just shrugs.</p><p>"We haven't had much time together to prepare for this," I start and shift my chair so I can look at her a little better. "I'm sorry for that. You filed for divorce due to irreconcilable differences. Is there anything I need to know about that?" </p><p>"I don't think so," she mutters.</p><p>I try to get to look into her eyes, but she cleverly manages to avoid that. There must be more to it. I've seen many women feeling intimidated by their ex-husband, but this is different. Dilaney  creeps me out. His behavior tells me something's off.</p><p>"I get a sense that you are very scared of him, Sandra," I try. "He scared <em>me </em>just now."</p><p>"I'm only nervous. I told you, he can get very aggressive. That's who he is."</p><p>"Is that why you wanted a divorce?"</p><p>Again, no response.</p><p>"Is there anything you haven't told Cary or me that we should know? I try. "Because if there are signs of-"</p><p>I stop in the middle of my sentence. I realize I can't force her into saying things that maybe aren't true. I can't put words in her mouth.</p><p>"Alicia, I know you're only trying to help, but this isn't… I don't like these negotiations. I don't like George, that's why we're here… That's all there is to it."</p><p>We shouldn't continue like this, I realize. When my gut tells me something's wrong, that's usually the case.</p><p>"I'll tell David we will continue at a different moment," I state. I sort out the papers in front of me and put everything back in my bag.</p><p>"Alicia?"</p><p>I look back at her.</p><p>"Thank you. For today."</p><p>"You're welcome," I smile at her. "You should go home. We'll talk soon," I say and give her a gentle pat on the shoulder. I walk with her to the elevator, and when she's about to step in, I decide to give it another try and block the doors with my hand.</p><p>"Hypothetically," I start with a soft voice trying to get her attention. She gives me a questioning look. "If I was to represent a woman who is a victim of domestic violence, the divorce proceedings would change dramatically. There would be no negotiations. My client would be protected from her ex-husband, both in court, <em>and at home,"</em> I emphasize. "It would be drastically different."</p><p>I look in her eyes, hoping she got the message. She just nods at me. "Ok." The doors close. Not sure if that worked.</p><p>And then, when I'm about to head upstairs to David's office, I spot <em>him</em>. I feel my breathing increase as Will walks down the hallway. Completely unprepared for his sudden appearance, I just stand there.</p><p>He can see me. I know he can. For a split second, his eyes looked at me. But he doesn't acknowledge me. He keeps his head up high, walks on and looks straight ahead with a cold, blank look on his face. A look I am still getting used to, and it is about time that I do because it was the only look he had granted me for the past seven months. Except for that one time, but that doesn't count. Even then, that wasn't close to how we used to be. Nothing was how it used to be anymore. </p><p>
  <strong>Thursday, 5:38 PM</strong>
</p><p>"Done powdering your noses?" David sneers at me as I enter his office a few minutes later.</p><p>"My client is reconsidering… <em>aspects </em>of this divorce. We'll have to set a new date to continue negotiations."</p><p>"Good God, Alicia," he says, scornful. "Playing the domestic violence card?"</p><p>I don't respond to that. <em>Shit. </em></p><p>"Of course, I already asked George if Sandra might go down that road. Let's say he didn't like the idea too much. But do whatever you want. I'll be here waiting for your next marvelous move."</p><p>I decide not to respond to that. "Have a nice day David."</p><p>"Oh it's a wonderful day already Alicia. Bye bye," he waves.</p><p>
  <strong>Thursday, 5:45 PM</strong>
</p><p>I'm back in the elevator, completely pissed off by David's behavior. As I walk out into the parking garage, I get my phone out to text Cary.</p><p>While texting Cary, I walk toward where I parked my car. I don't look up from my phone until I'm there. And as I do, I'm startled by the appearance of Dilaney. <em>What is he doing here?</em></p><p><em>Be careful, </em>I tell myself. <em>Stay calm. </em>Instinctively, I look for a way out. I look back at where I came from, but there is no way I could make it back to the elevator without him catching up with me. He's in between me and my car so I won't be able to get there either. <em>Don't panic. </em>Maybe he just wants to talk. Don't do anything unpredictable. Just be polite.</p><p>"Mr. Dilaney?" I say.</p><p>No response. The cold, dark look in his face creeps me out. He just takes a few steps closer towards me and observes me closely.</p><p>I clench my hand around my phone. <em>Should I try to dial 911?</em> And then, what?</p><p>"I was waiting for you." There's a triumphant tone to his voice.</p><p>"I don't think we should be talking here," is all I manage to respond.</p><p>"Oh, I'm not here to talk." Another step closer.</p><p>Intuitively, I take a step back, but my heel touches concrete, and I realize there's a column behind me. He's closing me in.</p><p>"I just want to make myself clear."</p><p><em>Act quickly. Do something. This isn't right. </em>A million thoughts flash through my mind. <em>Kick him. Hit him. </em></p><p>But then both his hands grab my wrists. My whole body tenses. As he pushes me closer to the column, my phone drops out of my hand. From the corner of my eye, I see it hit the concrete with a loud bang. The battery cover snaps off.</p><p>I always thought I would do better in these situations, but here I am, and now I don't know what to do. I just freeze at the force of his hands clenched around my wrists. He breaths heavily, right in my face.</p><p>"And now you're going to listen to me." He's forcing me to look in his eyes. I try to look away, but he's so close and holds me with so much force that I don't have any other options.</p><p>"You need to leave my wife the fuck alone." His breath smells of alcohol and smoke, it makes me gasp for air.</p><p><em>Is this all?</em> I hope so. I don't reply and just wait for it to pass. For him to let go of my wrists. I try to look around him, hoping that someone else is arriving in the garage. I do hear a car, but they won't see us.</p><p>"HEY!" He then shouts and pushes me even tighter against the column. He places his leg in between mine, lifting his knee up against my crotch. It's making me feel sick.</p><p>"No distractions," he breathes in my face. "Did you hear what I just said?"</p><p>I nod quickly. Now I'm really scared.</p><p>"Did you?" he hisses. "I don't want you to be around my <em>wife</em>. Talk her out of this divorce."</p><p>I feel infuriated. I shouldn't say anything else, I know that. I should just agree with him and hope that he'll let go after that. But I'm too proud.</p><p>"I can't do that." I say with confidence, but regret the words immediately. </p><p>His eyes grow wide as the words roll over my lips. Then, he pulls me away from the column and slams me back. I lose my balance for a second, and the back of my head smashes against the column.</p><p>I gasp as the pain rushes over me. My head starts buzzing.</p><p>One of his hands lets go off my wrist and presses down on my chest with enormous strength. I gasp for air. He pushes his hand up to my throat. <em>Oh, my God, what is happening?</em><em>.</em><em> Make it stop.</em></p><p><em>You need help, Alicia. </em>I try to shout for help, but his hand quickly covers my mouth. It makes me want to choke, but I can't do anything.</p><p>"Shut the <em>fuck </em>up," he spits at me. I'm trembling now. He pulls at the shirt I'm wearing. Two buttons snap off as he does so, uncovering my bra.</p><p>Embarrassed and exposed, I try to cover it up. But as I try to move in his strong hold, he suddenly pulls back his arm and with enormous force, his clenched fist punches my jaw. The impact of the hit smacks my head against the concrete mass again. I'm overpowered by enormous pain.</p><p>The buzzing in my head increases, a loud beep takes over and my vision disappears.</p><p>Then everything turns black.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>Thank you for reading, love to hear your thoughts!</strong>
</p><p><em>Preview for next chapter</em>: Time for a flashback… Hang in there ;)</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Collission</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>force ma·jeure noun \ˌfȯrs-mä-ˈzhər, -mə-\ 1: superior or irresistible force. 2: an event or effect that cannot be reasonably anticipated or controlled. Alicia &amp; Will, seven months after she left L/G: Then, our eyes meet. Accidentally. And it makes it all worse.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks: To my beta RomanticSoutherner for amazing tips, patience and motivation and taking the time to correct this chapter despite her inconsistent workschedule and long hours!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Force Majeure</strong>
</p>
<p>Chapter 4 – Collision<br/>(Flashback to 43 days ago)</p>
<p><em>You better stop and try to think. Look what you're doing.<br/><br/></em>– Roisin Murphy, Ruby Blue</p>
<p>
  <strong>Monday, 06:23 PM </strong>
</p>
<p>I never was a proponent of trying, but both Cary and Brad have a tendency to be overly ambitious. And that resulted in them being convinced we needed the class action that Lockhart/Gardner had started preparing just a few weeks before we left. Precisely half of our clients chose to go with us. Luckily, I wasn't there when Will found out, and Cary took the hit. Then, the clients decided they wanted to get both firms in the preparations, and Cary agreed. And now we're stuck in this mess. Brad with me and Will with his new junior associate Helena on the 27th floor of Lockhart/Gardner.</p>
<p>"We'll do better in negotiations," Will says for the third time now and pushes himself off the table he was leaning against.</p>
<p>"Some of them want to take the shot. You can't just ignore that," I reply.</p>
<p>"They'll benefit from a settlement," he repeats, more annoyed this time. "And we'll get it. Don't force court because you want to make an impression."</p>
<p>"Don't force negotiations to avoid court," I shoot back. He's pissing me off. I get it. I get why he hates me, he has a right to. But this is incredibly frustrating. Maybe that's his purpose, I'm not sure, but it's not very efficient.</p>
<p>He just stares at me, his eyes filled with disapproval.</p>
<p>"I'll do it," I suggest. "Let me look at the files."</p>
<p>"You don't think we already did that?" That's Helena. I frown at her suddenly chiming in. I forgot there are others in the room.</p>
<p>"I think, it won't hurt to check again," I answer her. "There might be a good court case in one of yours."</p>
<p>Will rolls his eyes and sighs deeply. "You know what? Fine. I'm done discussing this."</p>
<p>"Thank you," I say. He doesn't acknowledge it and turns to Helena.</p>
<p>
  <strong>Monday, 06:31 PM </strong>
</p>
<p>I follow Will going up the stairs to his office to get the files. We don't share a word. He walks fast, doesn't wait up for me and definitely doesn't want to walk next to me.</p>
<p>"They're over there on the couch," he mumbles indifferently and walks to his desk in a straight line.</p>
<p>"Thanks," I simply respond, standing in the middle of his office. It's the first time I'm back here after my resignation.</p>
<p>I really don't want to sit on <em>that </em>couch so I just kneel down next to it and sort through the files I need. Once I got the right ones, I get up.</p>
<p>"How are you?" I ask in an attempt to start a civil conversation, the files clenched against my chest.</p>
<p>He looks up from his laptop and gives me a stare that tells me I shouldn't expect an answer.</p>
<p>"The conference room is free," he says bluntly and looks back to his screen.</p>
<p>The way he's bend over his laptop tells me he's not going to talk any more so I just head out.</p>
<p>
  <strong>Monday, 07:24 PM</strong>
</p>
<p>"I think, I may have found a contender," I reluctantly announce as I walk back in his office an hour later.</p>
<p>"What? The Kidston one?" He pushes his chair away from his desk. "They'll refuse."</p>
<p>"I could try talking to them."</p>
<p>"Didn't you just hear what I said? They'll refuse."</p>
<p>I don't like his tone. I get that he's upset. So am I. But we <em>have</em> to work together one way or another.</p>
<p>"If we're not going to try, why I am I even here?" I ask and take a few steps into his office.</p>
<p>"You tell me. And I never said I wanted to try. <em>We </em>aren't trying anything."</p>
<p>"Did you even explain the possible benefits of court?" I ask, crossing my arms across my chest. His behavior is starting to bother me by now. "You're disfavoring your clients."</p>
<p>He shakes his head. "It's not in the best interest of the Kidstons. It's not in the best interest of the class action and—"</p>
<p>
  <em>Really Will? </em>
</p>
<p>"I'm starting to think you're actually avoiding court," I interrupt him.</p>
<p>"Excuse me?" He stands up at that, clearly offended. I know I'm entering dangerous territory here, but I mean it.</p>
<p>"I think, you're avoiding going to court," I repeat.</p>
<p>The blank look on his face changes to an angry stare straight into my eyes. He leans against his desk and rubs his eyes.</p>
<p>"God, Alicia. You really don't get it—"</p>
<p>"I wouldn't know why else you'd give—"</p>
<p>"—I'm not avoiding anything," he then throws back at me. There's a provocative look in his eyes. "I am not like that."</p>
<p>I know what he's getting at. He doesn't have to say anything else, and he knows that too.</p>
<p>"Ok," is all I say in response.</p>
<p>"Anything else?"</p>
<p>"Nope." I clear my throat and walk over to his desk. "Here," I say and hand him the other files.</p>
<p>As he takes the files from me, his hand touches mine. Unintended, I know. Still, I can't help to flinch at his touch. For a split second, our eyes meet. He notices my reaction. We don't say a word. I'm nailed to the ground, overpowered by the response of my body. For a moment, we do nothing else but stare at each other. Something clicks. As if we just silently agreed on what's going to happen next.</p>
<p>His eyes swallow me up. The energy in the room clouds my mind. Everything around us seems to go up in some sort of fog, and he is the only thing left I can see. He looks a me with that frown, his mouth half open, caught just as off guard as me.</p>
<p>We're just inches apart. I want to pull away, but my body doesn't let me. There's no stopping this.</p>
<p>I lean in. I hesitate for just a second, but it's as if I have no control over my body anymore, and my lips reach his. I kiss him. His lips on mine bring me back to what I didn't allow myself to feel for a long time. It's not a chaste kiss. It's strong and desperate almost.</p>
<p>Immediately, his hands crawl up around my neck, he grips my hair and pulls me closer. My hand clenches onto the fabric of his shirt. I'm starting to feel light headed, and I realize I'm pushing my body against his, wanting more.</p>
<p>His hands find their way to my thighs. Our kiss deepens. He pushes up the material of my dress. Automatically, I get my hands to his belt and unbuckle it. We're not taking our time, or building up to anything. His hands glide over my hips and thighs, but it doesn't feel good.</p>
<p>It doesn't live up to the fantasies I'd been having for months.</p>
<p>Then, our eyes meet. Accidentally. And it makes it all worse. We get a glimpse in each other's souls, and it brings us back to reality. In his eyes, I see the love he once had for me and what I felt for him. But it's clouded by anger.</p>
<p>"I can't do this," Will mutters. His hands are still on my hips as he says that.</p>
<p>"Will—". I start, but I have no idea what to do.</p>
<p>"This was a mistake." He lets go off me and reaches for his own belt.</p>
<p>I quickly smooth down my dress. As I look back up to him, the cold stare that had just disappeared is back and seems stronger than ever.</p>
<p>"You should leave."</p>
<p>I simply nod. Now we are worse. Everything that just happened depreciated the value of what we once had.</p>
<p>There's nothing left. There's too much pain and frustration.</p>
<p>And I'm responsible.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Thank you for reading!<br/></strong>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I hope you enjoyed and that you'll see how this matters for what's next! I'd love to hear what you think!</em>
</p>
<p><em>Preview for next chapter: </em>Back to the parking garage.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Anyone But Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>force ma·jeure noun \ˌfȯrs-mä-ˈzhər, -mə-\ 1: superior or irresistible force. 2: an event or effect that cannot be reasonably anticipated or controlled. Alicia &amp; Will, seven months after she left L/G:My heart stops and so do my footsteps. My whole body freezes at the sight of her, collapsed against the column. Eyes closed.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Force Majeure</strong>
</p><p>Chapter 5 – Anyone But Me</p><p>"<em>Please, don't stand so close to me. I'm having trouble breathing.<br/>
</em><em>I'm afraid of what you'll see."</em></p><p><em> - </em>Christina Perri, Distance</p><p>
  <strong>Thursday, 5:26 PM</strong>
</p><p>I immediately know it's her, standing at the elevators. I would recognize her from any distance. In any given situation. I'll always see her first.</p><p><em>What is she doing here?</em> I decisively ignore her as I pass through the hallway and walk straight towards my office. I am about to head out early today, but I don't want to end up together in the elevator or the parking garage with her. So I sit back down behind my desk and check my e-mails.</p><p>I'm avoiding her.</p><p>I know, it's not the adult thing to do. But I'm finally coming to terms with the fact that I'm in love with a woman who truly doesn't love me back. Avoidance does seem to be the best remedy.</p><p>I had to shut her off emotionally, but physically, I've had a hard time staying apart. I learned that the hard way.</p><p>In the heat of the moment, I thought I could separate the two. I couldn't. <em>Stupid. </em>It had all been so incredibly <em>stupid. </em></p><p>Damage was done. Irreparable damage. Now, we have a silent agreement not to ever talk about it again. And I don't want to. We're over and done.</p><p>
  <strong>Thursday, 6:03 PM</strong>
</p><p>I let out a relieved sigh as the elevator doors slide open to the parking garage. Time to get home, order pizza and watch the game.</p><p>"Sir! Wait up!" I hear behind me.</p><p>I turn around to see where the voice's coming from.</p><p>A woman hurries towards me, panicking, "I need some help over here."</p><p>"What's wrong?" I ask, concerned and make my way over to her.</p><p>"Thank God. Walk with me. I just found her. She says she got beat up. She's conscious now, but I think she needs a doctor, and I just don't know what to do, should I call an ambulance?"</p><p>"Who are you talking about?"</p><p>"A woman. She's right over there."</p><p>"Let's just calm down," I try and walk with her. I'm really not the kind of person to help out in this sort of situation. My medical knowledge is zero, I'm not good with sick people, and I really want to get home in time to–</p><p><em>Alicia</em>.</p><p>My heart stops and so do my footsteps. My whole body freezes at the sight of her, collapsed against the column. Eyes closed.</p><p>I can't process this.</p><p>
  <em>Alicia.</em>
</p><p>It hits me again.</p><p>Immediately, I kneel down in front of her. I want to touch her face but she's so bruised that I'm afraid I'll hurt her. What happened? <em>What happened to you? </em></p><p>"Alicia, can you hear me? It's Will."</p><p>She barely responds. The way her head is tilted to one side doesn't look good. <em>Who did this.</em></p><p>"You know her?" The woman asks surprised.</p><p>"Yeah… Yes, I do."</p><p>"Should I call an ambulance?" The woman asks me.</p><p>"No," Alicia mutters.<em> Thank God,</em> <em>she's conscious. </em></p><p>"Alicia, what happened?" I ask. It takes a while, but she opens her eyes.</p><p>She winces as she tries to sit up. "He hit me," she mumbles without looking at me.</p><p>"Who did this to you?"</p><p>I'm filled with anger as I observe the swelling on her jaw. Then my eye falls on her wrists, both red and bruised. <em>What did he do to her.</em></p><p>"Dilaney. David's client."</p><p>I don't understand.</p><p>"How long have you been lying here?" I try to get her to look at me.</p><p>"I don't know." She swallows heavily. Her eyes are barely open, staring at the ground. "I just need to get home."</p><p>She tries to sit up a bit more and tries cover her chest. That's when I notice how her shirt is ripped open. <em>What the hell did this guy to her.</em></p><p>"Wait. Here," I say as I take off my jacket. Reluctantly, she leans forward so I can drape it around her shoulders. Then I spot blood on the column. It turns my stomach.</p><p>"You hit your head?" I ask.</p><p>She nods with a groan.</p><p>"Ok. That's it. I'm calling 911."</p><p>"I'll do it," the woman volunteers from behind me. I already forgot about her.</p><p>I turn around. "Thank you."</p><p>"You want me to call Peter?" I turn back to Alicia and ask.</p><p>She shakes her head.</p><p>I frown at that. "You probably should."</p><p>She shakes her head again.</p><p>"We separated," she says. Barely audible, but I think I heard that right.</p><p>I don't know what to make of this. There's too much going on.</p><p>I rub my hands over my face, thinking of what to do. "Then I'll go with you."</p><p>"Will. Don't."</p><p>"Stop it," I answer. "I'm going with you."</p><p>I look back at the woman after she finished the call. "I'll take it from here. Thank you."</p><p>"Thank you for everything," Alicia mutters with an exhale as she tries to smile.</p><p>"Ok," she answers hesitantly. "Take care."</p><p>I turn back to Alicia. Her jaw looks bruised, her shirt is ripped open, and there is blood on the column behind her. It's making me feel sick and dizzy just looking at her.</p><p>Her eyes are still focused on the floor, avoiding mine. I know why. Of course I know why. But everything I was thinking earlier today doesn't count. Not now anyway.</p><p>We sit there for a while, I don't know how long. Then, her eyes break from the ground and look up to me. Defeated.</p><p>"It hurts <em>so</em> bad." She says it as if she's finally allowing herself to feel the pain.</p><p>"I know," is all I manage to say in return. It breaks my heart to see her like this. It feels strange to just sit here and not do anything. I want to hold her. I want to carry her out of here. But I know I shouldn't move her.</p><p>She leans back against the column. I've never seen her hurt or in pain like this.</p><p>I see tears forming in her eyes. She tries to blink them away but one tear trickles down her cheek. She doesn't look at me.</p><p>Instinctively, I reach out and gently caress her upper arm in an attempt to comfort her. </p><p>She shivers, let's out a sigh and for a split second, we look in each other eyes. She looks scared and distressed. In too much pain to protest, she lets me rest my hand on her arm.</p><p>"We'll get out of here in a few minutes," I tell her.</p><p>There are so many emotions rushing through me. I want to take her hand, I want to make her feel better but I don't know if she wants me to. So I pull back.</p><p>I know she probably wishes I hadn't come down to help her. Anyone but me. Honestly, I was hoping to avoid her as well. But it doesn't matter now. Nothing matters now but getting her to a hospital.</p><p>So, I just sit next to her, on my knees. Waiting for the ambulance to arrive. She closed her eyes again. I fear she'll slip back into unconsciousness.</p><p>I lean in again and gently squeeze her shoulder. "You have to stay awake. Can you do that for me?"</p><p>Her eyes flutter open at that. She doesn't say a word. She just looks at me, straight at me, as if I'm a focus point to not sink away again. I realize I have to keep talking to her until the ambulance arrives.</p><p>"You're going to be fine, I promise," I whisper. "Just a few more minutes."</p><p>I carefully squeeze her shoulder again as I see her eyes closing again. "Come on, stay with me."</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>Thank you for reading!</strong>
</p><p><em>Preview for next chapter: </em>Will in the waiting area of the hospital, trying to wrap his mind around what's going on.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Keep Breathing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>force ma·jeure noun \ˌfȯrs-mä-ˈzhər, -mə-\ 1: superior or irresistible force. 2: an event or effect that cannot be reasonably anticipated or controlled. Alicia &amp; Will, seven months after she left L/G: She doesn't know that I'm here. That I'm with her. Because I'm not. What was I supposed to say at the admin? It's complicated?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks: to my beta RomanticSoutherner for great tips and comments as always.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Force Majeure</strong>
</p><p>Chapter 6 – Keep Breathing</p><p>
  <em>All we can do is keep breathing now.</em>
</p><p><em><br/></em>– Ingrid Michaelson (Keep Breathing)</p><p>
  <strong>Thursday, 7:23 PM</strong>
</p><p>I wonder if she even knows I'm here. I haven't seen her since the ambulance drove off. I just stood there, lost, in the middle of the parking garage. Unsure of what to do next.</p><p>It's been over an hour since I sat down in the waiting area. I haven't moved an inch. These plastic chairs are uncomfortable. I bury my face in my hands and rub my eyes.</p><p>She doesn't know that I'm here. That I'm with her. Because I'm not. I'm not her colleague, not her friend, not her partner. <em>What was I supposed to say at the admin?</em> <em>It's complicated?</em></p><p>From where I'm sitting, I can see the door of the examination room she's in. First, the paramedics left. A doctor came in. A nurse. A police officer. Another doctor. And I'm worried sick.</p><p>"Weren't you that guy in the parking garage?"</p><p>I look up at the man walking up to me. It's one of the paramedics.</p><p>"Yeah… yeah, I was."</p><p>"Want some?" He points at the coffee machine. <em>Coffee. </em>I nod.</p><p>"You know, you could have gone with us in the ambulance."</p><p>I don't really respond.</p><p>He hands me a cup of coffee and sits down on the chair next to me.</p><p>"Can you tell me how she's doing?" I try to sound unaffected, but it comes out much more worried than I intended to.</p><p>"Conscious and alert during the ride…" He stirs his coffee. "But you never know in these situations."</p><p>"Right... Thank you."</p><p>"They didn't give you any updates?"</p><p>"Ah… She doesn't know I'm here," I explain reluctantly, not wanting to explain why things went down the way they did.</p><p>He frowns at me. Luckily, his beeper goes off. "Duty calling." He gets up from his chair.</p><p>Conscious and alert. That's good, right? <em>That's good, Will. Stop worrying. She'll be fine. </em></p><p>But what if she isn't fine? What if it all goes wrong? I'd have to call her kids. Would I have to pick them up? I'd have to call Peter first. Or her mother. Or Owen. And then? I wouldn't know how to tell them. What should I say? Maybe I should have called them right away when it happened. Too often, I heard stories where people seem fine, but then suddenly just… stop breathing.</p><p>I can't. I can't let my mind go there. I can't prepare myself for that, and I don't want to, and I don't<em> need</em> to.</p><p><em>Stop it, Will. </em>I'm all worked up, and I don't know how to calm down.</p><p>It's just that I'm completely powerless, and it frustrates me. I need to be in control. Of my life, my work, my feelings, all of it. Now, I'm not in control of anything. How am I supposed to sit here and wait?</p><p>But I could have been in control. I could have avoided this. If I hadn't waited for her to leave, if I would have just left the office when I wanted to, I could have prevented all of this. I would have heard her cry for help, and I would have been there.</p><p>I would have gotten her out of there.</p><p>Frustrated, I shoot up from my chair. I need fresh air to catch my breath and calm down.</p><p>
  <strong>Thursday, 7:50 PM</strong>
</p><p>I found a way outside, and now I'm on the phone with Kalinda.</p><p>"David's client?"</p><p>"Yeah," I reply. "Dilaney, I think she said. I'm not sure."</p><p>"I'll check."</p><p>"Once they get this guy, let me know. Okay?"</p><p>"Sure. I will."</p><p>She's silent for a moment.</p><p>"How is she?" Her voice is not as persevering as usual. Hesitant almost, as if she's asking a forbidden question.</p><p>"There's a doctor with her now. I don't know."</p><p>"You're in the hospital with her?" She sounds confused.</p><p>"Yeah," I reply, rubbing my eyes again. "Long story."</p><p>"You're staying?"</p><p>"Not sure," I answer in all honesty. "Just let me know if they're going after the guy."</p><p>"I'll keep you posted."</p><p>
  <strong>Thursday, 08:12 PM</strong>
</p><p>Back in the plastic chairs. I'm hungry, but I don't feel like eating.</p><p>I need to make up my mind. What am I going to do? Stay here? Call someone? I glance at the examination room, and at that very moment, a nurse walks out.</p><p>I get up and make my way to her. "Hi, I'm here for Alicia Florrick."</p><p>"Yes?"</p><p>"She knows me. I don't know if she wants me in there, so… could you ask?"</p><p>She raises her brows at me, observes me from head to toe. "Your name?"</p><p>"Will. Will Gardner."</p><p>She walks back in to the room. A few seconds later, she opens the door. "I guess, it's okay."</p><p><em>I guess? </em>What is that supposed to mean? A little hesitant, I walk in.</p><p>"Hi," I start. My voice is hoarse. This is making me nervous. She's laying on her side, her back towards me.</p><p>I walk across the room and sit down on a chair in the corner. She looks up at me.</p><p>"Hi...," she says with a soft voice. "I didn't know you came all the way here."</p><p>"Of course, I did," I respond. I rest my elbows on my knees and cup my face in my hands as I look at her. It comforts me, seeing her in a bed like this. Still in bad shape, but cleaned up a little and within the safe environment of a hospital.</p><p>"You should go home," she pleads. "Really, I'm fine."</p><p>"You're not fine."</p><p>"I will be." She props herself up on her elbows, but moans as she does and sinks back down.</p><p>"Need help?"</p><p>She rolls her eyes at me. I probably shouldn't ask that again.</p><p>"Even if they do clear you, who's going to drive you home?"</p><p>"I'll call a cab."</p><p>"Alicia, I know you don't want me here. But then I need you to call someone else."</p><p>She turns on her back.</p><p>"Want me to call Owen? Your mom?"</p><p>"God, <em>no</em>," she replies.</p><p>"Anyone else?"</p><p>She doesn't respond and stares at the ceiling.</p><p>"What did the doctors say?" I decide to ask, changing the subject.</p><p>"I need a head CT," she sighs. "Check for internal bleeding, fracture… I don't know."</p><p>"Right."</p><p>"They gave me stitches," she motions at her head.</p><p>I nod. "Anything for pain?"</p><p>She shakes her head lightly. "Only Advil."</p><p>"Nothing stronger?" I ask stunned.</p><p>"They can't do that, nothing numbing."</p><p>She gives me a quick look, as if she's thinking what do to with my presence. She turns back on her side, towards me.</p><p>"Will, you don't want to be here," is what she finally says. I didn't expect anything else.</p><p>"Do you want me to go?" I ask in return.</p><p>She sighs deeply. "I don't know," she mutters and gives me an apologising look. She breaks eye contact and stares back at the ceiling. "We're –"</p><p>She doesn't finish her sentence.</p><p>I look at her for a moment. Then, I decide to get up and move my chair closer to her bed. I sit down again.</p><p>"Look," I start. "I'm here now. I don't have any plans for tonight…"</p><p>She opens her mouth to interrupt me, but I cut her off.</p><p>"Let me just wait for the CT results. If they'll clear you, I'll get you home. If you have to stay the night, I'll leave."</p><p>Again, she turns her face to me. "We ignored each other in the hall way this afternoon, Will. Don't pretend."</p><p>"I'm not." I just reply, staring back at her. "I'm staying."</p><p>The look in her eyes softens. As if she just gave up fighting me, accepting that this is how it's going to be.</p><p><em>I wish you didn't fight me that hard. </em>I can't help to think as I look at her. <em>We wouldn't be this complicated. We wouldn't be such a tragedy.</em></p><p>Then, the nurse walks back into the room. "CT is ready for you."</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>Thank you for reading!</strong>
</p><p><em>Preview for next chapter: </em>The results of the CT are in. Will said he'd bring her home if they clear her, or leave if she needs to stay. Which one is it going to be?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Two Hours</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>force ma·jeure noun \ˌfȯrs-mä-ˈzhər, -mə-\ 1: superior or irresistible force. 2: an event or effect that cannot be reasonably anticipated or controlled. Alicia &amp; Will, seven months after she left L/G. I stand there, unsure of what to do with this situation. I look at her. Despite the bruising, she looks oddly peaceful, curled up in her own bed like that. Then, I realize I'm watching her sleep. I shouldn't be doing that. Instead, I turn around and turn off the light on my way out.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Force Majeure</strong>
</p><p>Chapter 7 – Two Hours</p><p>"<em>By tomorrow, we'll be lost among the leaves."</em></p><p><em><br/></em>– Daughter (Tomorrow)</p><p>
  <strong>Thursday, 11:11 PM</strong>
</p><p>They cleared her.</p><p>"No abnormalities, no swelling, no bleeding, no fracture," is what they told her.</p><p>I offered to drive her home. She nodded, mumbled thank you, and that's all the conversation we had. Now, we're in my car, driving. Alicia is in the seat next to me. She winced in pain every time we took a turn or had to stop.</p><p>I find the silence between us unbearable. We used to have comfortable silences. We must have. I can't recall a specific one though. I seem to have forgotten every comfortable moment I ever shared with her. The past months, her… <em>actions</em> have been so infuriating that they got rid of any good memory I ever had of her. There's absolutely <em>nothing</em> left.</p><p>Still, there is an, apparently unconditional, urge that makes me want to see her safe. That makes me want to care for her. Then again, I would have done the same thing with anyone in a similar situation. At least, that's what I've been telling myself all these hours in the hospital tonight.</p><p>I glance to my right as we stop for a traffic light.</p><p>"You should call your kids," I say as I look at her.</p><p>She doesn't respond.</p><p>"Someone, anyway."</p><p>"I'll call Zach in the morning."</p><p>I sigh and shake my head in frustration. "What about tonight?"</p><p>"I don't know," she mumbles, barely audible.</p><p>I watch her sit there, leaning against the window with a blank stare on her face.</p><p>"I know, it's bad," she sighs as she notices me looking at her.</p><p>I decide not to say anything. Instead, I restlessly tap my fingers on the steering wheel.</p><p>It <em>is</em> bad. The bruise on her jaw told me that, the blood on the column told me that, and the fact that she was barely conscious when I found her told me that. I wonder how long it will take her to recover from a trauma like that. Not just the pain, but also the attack in itself. But I guess it's not up to me to worry about that.</p><p>The light turns green, and we drive off again.</p><p>I keep staring at the road as I ask the question that simply needs to be asked.</p><p>"Do you want me to stay?"</p><p>Silence.</p><p>I don't even know if I'm really offering. I'd rather not stay. I'd rather not be here with her in my car in the first place.</p><p>The silence continues. I feel bad for asking. She can't say yes. She can't say no. She needs to be woken up every two hours, the doctor told her that.</p><p>I glance to my side once more. She closed her eyes.</p><p>I focus back on the road, glad to have an excuse to avoid any other conversation.</p><p>
  <strong>Thursday, 11:30 PM</strong>
</p><p>"You okay?" I ask as the elevator starts moving upwards, and I see her hand clenching on to the railing.</p><p>"Yeah," she mumbles. The way she stands there, with that tense grip on the railing tells me she's not. She loses balance for a second.</p><p>"Dizzy?"</p><p>"Mhmm."</p><p>I take a step closer towards her. "Wanna sit down?"</p><p>She just shakes her head, her gaze focused on the floor. This isn't going well.</p><p>Instinctively, I wrap my arm around the small of her waist. I don't look at her as I do, trying to keep distance in any way possible. Her body tenses up, but she lets me.</p><p>As we arrive on her floor, Alicia leans against the wall as I search for her keys. I open up the door and turn back towards her, ready to offer her my arm again. But she mutters, "I'm fine," and heads in.</p><p>I watch her make her way into the kitchen, and it doesn't take long before she loses her balance again. She grabs the counter for support. For a moment, I stand there in the hallway and watch her barely hold herself together. Am I supposed to leave? I'm not going to turn around and leave now. She might as well pass out.</p><p>"You should lay down."</p><p>I walk over to her. "Come on," I order her decisively as I wrap my arm around her waist again. This time, she leans against me much more willingly. I'm not sure for what reason. Pure pain and exhaustion, most likely.</p><p>I desperately try to ignore the fact that I'm in her apartment. Or that I'm heading towards her bedroom. I try to shut all those thoughts out. I lead her to her bed and hold her as she sits down.</p><p>Immediately, she sinks down in the pillows.</p><p>"God, it hurts," she groans as she turns on her side, her eyes already closed again.</p><p>"I'll be right back," I say and walk back to the kitchen.</p><p>
  <strong>Thursday, 11:41 PM</strong>
</p><p>I'm in her apartment.</p><p>It only hits me now, standing in her kitchen. <em>I'm in Alicia's apartment.</em> Alicia's kitchen. I wasn't planning to set foot in here ever again.</p><p><em>Nothing changed</em>, I think to myself as I look around. Reluctantly, I open one of the cabinets to get Alicia a glass of water. I know what cabinet to choose. It's the same as where she kept the wine glasses.</p><p>I open up the tap and stare at the water filling up the glass. This night turned out differently than expected. And that's an understatement.</p><p>I walk back to her bedroom. "Here," I say as I put the glass down next to her. She doesn't respond. <em>Is she asleep?</em></p><p>"Alicia?" I ask quietly. No response. Her heavy breathing tells me she did fall asleep.</p><p>I stand there, unsure of what to do with this situation. I look at her. Despite the bruising, she looks oddly peaceful, curled up in her own bed like that. Then, I realize I'm watching her sleep. I shouldn't be doing that. Instead, I turn around and turn off the light on my way out.</p><p>I can't leave, I realize as I'm back in her living room. She needs to be woken up every two hours. I glance at my watch. That would be 01:30. I could wait till then. Give her at least two hours sleep. And then what?</p><p>I don't know anymore.</p><p>I get back to the kitchen to get myself a glass of water. I sit down on one of the bar stools and look around the kitchen. There's a half full wine bottle standing on the kitchen counter, as usual. I smile as I remember one night here. She was about to pour in two glasses of wine, but I stopped her from doing so and lifted her up on one of the counters to kiss her. She giggled, wrapped her legs around me, and I carried her to the bedroom. We never went back for the wine.</p><p>I break away from that thought and get up from the stool. I don't want my mind to go there. It pisses me off. I don't want to think about any of that. About what we did, or how we were. It doesn't matter anymore. We're over and done. That thought used to hurt, but that hurt has been replaced by anger. Slowly, that's changing into indifference. I really want to stop caring about her, to forget all of it and be unaffected by her presence. Being here is not helping, but I'll get there.</p><p>I get my laptop and sit down at the dinner table. I try to move as little stuff as possible, but as I move away a pile of papers, my eye falls on a letter with an all too familiar logo that I would recognize anywhere. One quick glance at the letter tells me it's addressed to Zach. Smart kid. I briefly smile at the though. Then, I realize how intrusive this is. I shouldn't be going through her mail. I decisively put the pile of papers on the other side of the table and open up my laptop.</p><p>
  <strong>Friday, 01:22 AM</strong>
</p><p>As expected, the knocking didn't work. I'm back in her bedroom. The door opening allows just enough light for me to see her silhouette.</p><p>"Alicia?" I try with a whisper. No luck. "Alicia, are you awake?"</p><p>The fact that she's not responding makes me nervous. It takes me back to the parking garage. She's still just as pale as she was when I found her.</p><p>I sit down on the end of the bed. "Alicia?" I try again. "It's Will." I gently squeeze her arm. "You need to wake up for me." Another squeeze.</p><p>Then, her eyes flutter open and grow big at the sight of me. Her body tenses up. "What are you doing?" She sounds stressed and confused.</p><p>"Calm down, it's okay," I whisper, relieved she's responding. "Go back to sleep."</p><p>The moment of panic seems to pass as her body relaxes again. "You should go," she whispers, but as she does, she already falls back to sleep.</p><p>
  <strong>Friday, 03:30 AM</strong>
</p><p>I can't. I'm too tired. I blink against the brightness of my laptop screen as I thoughtlessly scroll through my e-mails. I haven't even done anything useful in the past two hours. I've just been staring and keeping myself awake. I break my gaze away from my laptop and head back to her bedroom.</p><p>I do the same as I did before, sit down on her bed, whisper her name, and gently squeeze her arm. She moans a little, but stays asleep.</p><p>I know, I need to wake her up. That's the purpose of being here after all, but right in that moment I find it hard to do so. Maybe it's because I'm so incredibly tired myself, but the sight of her sleeping brings back thoughts and feelings that I haven't had in a long time.</p><p>I haven't felt anything in the past months. I was numb. I still am. But the events of tonight had been so hectic and unexpected; I am affected by it in some way.</p><p>I watch her for a second. If I didn't know better, and if it wasn't for the bruises, this could be us two years ago. I loved watching her sleep; it could keep me up for hours. I always hoped to be the first one up in the morning. I loved it when that happened.</p><p>I sigh and rub my eyes. I shouldn't be doing this. And this is not two years ago. This is <em>now</em>. And a lot has happened in between that time. Too much. And I blame her for it.</p><p>I gently rub her arm again. Her eyes flutter open.</p><p>"You okay?"</p><p>She mumbles "mhmm" but doesn't open her eyes.</p><p>I guess, a response is enough. "Okay, good," I whisper. Once more, I walk back into her apartment.</p><p>My eye falls on the couch. Oh, I could just lie down, for an hour. Just get a little bit of sleep.</p><p>No. I don't want to do that. I should just pull through. So, I sit back down behind my laptop. But my eyes just simply don't allow me to do any more working or browsing. I hold my head in my hands and rub my eyes once more.</p><p>My thoughts wander off to Alicia once again. This time to that afternoon when she walked into my office and simply dropped the bomb. Out of nowhere. I hated myself for not seeing it coming. How could I not? Looking back, it was all too obvious.</p><p>And now I'm her apartment. For what exactly? I sigh and allow my self to close my eyes for just one brief second.</p><p>I'm <em>so</em> tired.</p><p>I need this. Just <em>one</em> second.</p><p>But I don't manage to open my eyes again, and I slowly lose control over my fatigue.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Naked Lunch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>force ma·jeure noun \ˌfȯrs-mä-ˈzhər, -mə-\ 1: superior or irresistible force. 2: an event or effect that cannot be reasonably anticipated or controlled. Alicia &amp; Will, seven months after she left L/G. Flashback: "Mr. Sweeney, is there something I need to know?" I try to sound persevering. He shakes his head. "No, No. You'll figure it out soon enough. Or well, I can only hope you do. Or not. It depends," he rambles.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Force Majeure</strong>
</p><p>Chapter 8 – Naked Lunch<br/>(Flashback to 211 days ago)</p><p>"<em>Well, as you can plainly see, the possibilities are endless like </em><em>meandering paths in a great big beautiful garden."</em><br/><br/>- William S. Burroughs (Naked Lunch)</p><p>
  <strong>Tuesday, 02:32 PM</strong>
</p><p>"Still in a sexual relationship with that lawyer of yours?" He raises his brows at me. "Hmm?"</p><p>I clean the corners of my mouth with my napkin. "We ended it." <em>It's none of his business. Why did I even answer that?</em></p><p>"What a shame." He leans back in his chair and crosses his legs. "She reminded me of my first girlfriend… High school sweethearts," he drinks from his wine before he continues. "Can you imagine?"</p><p><em>No, I can't. What, did he kill her too?</em> I don't really respond.</p><p>His eyes search mine. There's something going on in those eyes. There's <em>always </em>something going on in that twisted mind of his, and his eyes seem to be sending out exactly the amount of weirdness he's willing to let out. Some inappropriate, disgusting thought that he desperately wants to share with the world simply for the shock value of it.</p><p>But there's more to this lunch today. Sweeney would never have lunch just to discuss the firm in general while throwing in some insolent remarks here and there, like we've done so far.</p><p>And why did he ask to have lunch with me? He <em>always</em> asks for Alicia. Didn't he call her during election night? Something's up, and something's different. Ever since we sat down, I've been trying to figure out what exactly that is.</p><p>There's still a triumphant glare in those eyes, anticipating on how I'm going to act next.</p><p>"Mr. Sweeney," I then start. "My next case starts within the hour. If there's a point you want to make with this lunch, now is the time."</p><p>"All right, all right." He seems disappointed that I'm narrowing his space to tease me.</p><p>"I'm just going to ask you one question," he starts, staring into my eyes.</p><p>"Shoot," I reply, decisive.</p><p>He scoots his chair closer to the table and leans in, resting his head on his hand.</p><p>"Are you…aware?"</p><p>"<em>Aware?" </em>I repeat, confused.</p><p>"Hmm…" He leans back in his chair.</p><p>"Aware of what?"</p><p>"Well… We can conclude you're not."</p><p>"Aware of <em>what</em>?" I say again, colder his time.</p><p>He smirks. "No, no, no. I could go around tossing out hints like Hansel did with his breadcrumbs, but we all know he couldn't find his way back so I don't see the point."</p><p>I give him a confused look. <em>What the hell is he talking about?</em></p><p>"Hansel from Gretel?"</p><p><em>I got that. </em>"Yes, I know," I answer slightly annoyed and roll my eyes.</p><p>A small smile creeps on his face. This is exactly what he wants, to annoy me.</p><p>"Mr. Sweeney, is there something I need to know?" I try to sound persevering.</p><p>He shakes his head. "No, No. You'll figure it out soon enough. Or well, I can only hope you do. Or not. It depends," he rambles. "Well, I think I should go and ask for the check." He contemplates for a second, then looks back at me. "And if you don't figure it out, it's a reassurance that I made the <em>right</em> decision."</p><p>"Decision to what?" I snap. <em>Cut the crap, Sweeney. </em>I realize I'm getting worked up about this, and that's exactly what he wants.</p><p>"Oh, look at that. A paranoid… someone who knows little of what's going on."</p><p>I frown at him.</p><p>"It's a <em>quote</em>. William Burrough's Naked Lunch? Learn your classics, Mr Gardner."</p><p>He waves his credit card to the waitress. "This one's on me."</p><p>As we wait for the waitress to get back to us, he turns back in his chair. "And I'm sure she still adores you," he then says. "I can't imagine it being something personal."</p><p>I frown at that. "Who?"</p><p>"Come on," he rolls his eyes. "Everyone can tell you two were doing it."</p><p>I give him a blank stare. Are we talking about Laura again?</p><p>"<em>Aleecia," </em>he pronounces her name in that off way only he manages to do. "And who wouldn't? Professional, smart… and <em>toned, </em>too. Have you seen that body of hers?"</p><p>This is getting so inappropriate. I try to act casual, but it's not really working.</p><p>"Ahhh…" He leans in and taps his fingers on his chin. "You actually have. Doesn't surprise me one bit. She makes your cock spurts soft diamonds in the morning sunlight now, doesn't she?"</p><p><em>What did he just say? "</em>Excuse me?" I ask stunned.</p><p>"Oh relax. I'm still quoting my <em>beloved</em> William Burroughs."</p><p>With another one of his grins, he gets up from his chair as the waitress comes back with his card. "Exciting times ahead," he chuckles and taps me on the shoulder.</p><p>Frowning, I watch him leave the restaurant. I just sit there, processing, trying to figure out what point he was trying to make. Or was he just trying to mess with me? What decision? I don't know anymore. And what's up with those quotes? Am I supposed to read something into<em> that</em>?</p><p>"Sir, can I get you anything else?" The waitress snaps me out of my thoughts.</p><p>"No, thank you," I reply hastily and get up. I don't have time for this now. I'll be needing a scotch and a quiet office to think this through.</p><p>
  <em>What the hell is going on?</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Morning After</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>force ma·jeure noun \ˌfȯrs-mä-ˈzhər, -mə-\ 1: superior or irresistible force. 2: an event or effect that cannot be reasonably anticipated or controlled. Alicia &amp; Will, seven months after she left L/G: What part of my dream was real? All of it? I touch my face and cringe in pain. This is real. The parking garage was real. It all happened. This isn't a nightmare. This is reality.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Force Majeure</strong>
</p><p>Chapter 9 – Morning After</p><p>"<em>You dragged me up and out, out of the darkest place."</em></p><p>- Snow Patrol (Give me strength)</p><p>
  <strong>Friday, 6:20 AM<br/></strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Can you tell me your name?…The neck brace is just a precaution…have to stay awake.… I'll get you home… CT…Tell me what year it is…Dilaney…Alicia…Want me to call Peter?… Does it hurt anywhere else?...Lay down…Go back to sleep…Alicia…Alicia… It's Will...I'm not here to talk…M&amp;M's anyone?...Wake up for me…Go back to sleep...Alicia…Can you hear me?...Alicia…It's OK…Alicia… I was waiting for you…Shut the fuck up…Bitch…Don't come near her again…</em>
</p><p>My eyes shoot open.</p><p>I gasp for air.</p><p>The ceiling I'm staring at tells me I'm home. <em>Thank God. </em></p><p>I'm sweating<em>. </em>The back of my neck, my forehead, my chest… I feel hot and clammy.</p><p>I lift myself up to turn on my bed lamp. An immense throbbing pain in my head forces me to close my eyes again. Everything hurts. I groan as a sharp pain rushes through my chest. Exhausted, I fall back in my pillow. I try to keep my breathing shallow, hoping it will reduce the pain in my ribcage.</p><p>I stare back at the ceiling. Any attempt to turn sideways just makes the throbbing pain worse. <em>How did I get here? </em>Dilaney, the ambulance… the paramedic telling me I needed to stay awake… Will.</p><p>
  <em>Oh God. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Will. </em>
</p><p>Where did he go? I tense up as I realize he was the one waking me up somewhere this evening. Did he leave? Stressed out by the idea of him possibly still being here, I force myself up from my pillow. My eyes fall on the alarm clock that tells me 06:24. Next, I spot the untouched glass of water. <em>Did he put that there?</em></p><p>
  <em>Where's my phone?</em>
</p><p>I manage to sit up straight. The pounding in my head makes me close my eyes again. I need painkillers. I can't function like this. I keep my eyes closed for a little while and try to focus on my breathing.</p><p>What part of my dream was real? All of it? I touch my face and cringe in pain. This <em>is</em> real. The parking garage was real, the ambulance ride was real, the hours in the hospital, the ride back home… It all happened. This isn't a nightmare. This is reality.</p><p>I push myself up off the bed. Grinding my teeth in pain, I slip into a cardigan and some sweatpants.</p><p>Carefully, I step out the bedroom. Supporting myself on the counters, I move through the kitchen and then my eye falls on the dining room.</p><p>Will.</p><p>He's sitting on the table, behind his laptop. His head rests on his arms. Sleeping.</p><p>I lean against the doorpost for support. The throbbing in my head tells me I really shouldn't have gotten up in the first place.</p><p>I don't make any noise. For a brief moment, I simply stand there and watch him sleep like that. <em>He stayed. </em>An incredible sense of guilt takes over me. He shouldn't have. He didn't want to. So, why did he?</p><p>I know, it's inappropriate and wrong in a way, but I can't help to enjoy watching him sleep. There's something about the vulnerability in his face that brings me back to better, different, days. I wish, I could walk over to him and rub his shoulders. He would rest his head against my stomach as I did, take my hands in his and pull me closer against him. <em>Stop. </em></p><p>"Will?"</p><p>He lifts his head up at my voice. "Oh shit," he mutters. "What time is it?"</p><p>
  <em>Done dreaming.</em>
</p><p>"6:30."</p><p>"Dammit." As he looks up to me, I see how narrow his eyes are and the dark circles that formed underneath them. He's exhausted.</p><p>He rubs his face and lets out a yawn.</p><p>"Will… you shouldn't have stayed."</p><p>He doesn't respond to that and closes his laptop.</p><p>"Did you get any sleep at all?" I ask concerned.</p><p>"I wasn't planning to sleep," he scoffs at me as if it's the most ridiculous question he ever heard.</p><p>I simply nod. I have no idea what I'm supposed to say now. The throbbing in my head isn't helping. I want to tell him thank you. And to, please, stay a little longer. And that I'm so, so sorry.</p><p>Instead, I quietly stare at him as he puts his laptop back in his briefcase.</p><p>He looks at me as he gets up from the table. He walks to where I'm standing. For a brief second, I think he's coming towards me. But he walks straight passed me, inches away, into the kitchen.</p><p>I turn around and follow him. I see him take a phone charger out of the outlet. He walks back to me, my phone in his hands. "It still works," he states. "Just lost the battery cap."</p><p>He hands it to me. Carefully, making sure our hands don't touch. One quick glance at the screen tells me three new messages and nine missed calls. I look back up to him. "Thanks…"</p><p>He rolls up the cable around the charger and puts it in the pocket of his pants. "Couldn't find yours," he explains.</p><p>"Thank you," I try again, in an attempt to make his eyes look into mine, hoping he'll accept it this time. He doesn't. He just stares at me, cold and blank.</p><p>Next, he breaks off eye contact as he grabs his keys out of his pocket.</p><p>"Will…" I start. "Look. Last night is a bit hazy, but I know… I should have called someone else. I'm sorry, I didn't. I forced you to stay. I didn't mean to put you in that position."</p><p>No answer. The silence makes my thoughts trail of to last night events. I lost track of what happened once we left the hospital. <em>How did we even get home?</em></p><p>"We drove here." He interferes my thought process. "Remember?" There's a slight worry in his voice as he asks me that question.</p><p>"Yes." I try to state decisively. I do remember. Vaguely.</p><p>I'm starting to feel dizzy again.</p><p>"What time did we get back here?" I ask.</p><p>"Midnight."</p><p>I nod. I do my very best to process all of it, but I'm still so numb. The pain is not only in the back of my head, I notice. Now that I started talking I realize how bruised my jaw is.</p><p>"Alicia, do you remember what happened?" His question is more demanding now.</p><p>I remember. I just don't want to look him in the eyes and think about what happened because I know I'll break down. And I don't want to break down. Not with him around. Not now, not how we are, not… "Yes," I state.</p><p>The dizziness is taking over control of my body once more.</p><p>"Ok."</p><p>"I need to sit down," I mumble and sink down in one of the dining chairs.</p><p>"I should go."</p><p>"Will, no, wait. Stay."</p><p>He frowns at me. "I need to go home."</p><p>"Will, I know. But you stayed up <em>all</em> night. The least I could do is offer you some coffee. Or take a nap. You can use the guest room," I offer. "Really, it's fine. You need some sleep."</p><p>"Alicia." He cuts me off with a bitter voice. His cold stare tells me I'm not supposed to care, I realize. I'm not supposed to talk, and I'm most certainly not supposed to offer him anything. I don't remember him being like that last night. Then again, I don't remember much of last night.</p><p>I just nod. "Ok."</p><p>He walks over to the hallway to get his coat. I get up as well. He already has the door in his hand as I reach the kitchen.</p><p>I watch him stand there.</p><p>He watches me. Silence.</p><p>I stare in his eyes, and this time, he looks back in mine. It's not as cold as before, there's sorrow in those eyes this time.</p><p>"How are you feeling?" He then asks.</p><p>It makes me want to cry, that question. I'm <em>so</em> tired. It hurts <em>so </em>much.</p><p><em>Will, it hurts. </em>I want him to hold me, I want to cry and sleep in his hold. I realize I'm tearing up. I take a deep breath and regain myself.</p><p>I sigh and bite my bottom lip, fighting back tears that are burning up behind my eyes. For a second, I think he's going to let go of that door and walk back to me. He doesn't. Of course he doesn't. So I simply swallow back the tears.</p><p>"Better." I lie. But it's worse. <em>Much </em>worse.</p><p>"Ok," he replies. There's still this frown on his face. It seems as if he's asking himself whether he should hate me or not. It's the first time since it all blew up that I've seen him doubt that. It's been full on coldness all this time. Last night was different, but I was too out of it to really notice.</p><p>"Will, thank you."</p><p>He purses his lips and sighs. I don't get a response. He doesn't want to be thanked. He hates me for needing his care last night.</p><p>Without saying another word, he crosses the doorstep. I get some sort of nod. "Take care," he mumbles, but it doesn't sound sincere.</p><p>He closes the door of my apartment.</p><p>
  <em>Gone.</em>
</p><p>I stand there, staring at the door that he just closed. Then I force myself to move again and close the lock from the inside. My hands are trembling. I turn around and stare back in my apartment. I can't do this. I'm so tired.</p><p>I let myself sink down against the door and hit the floor. It hurts.</p><p>Everything hurts. Sitting down on the floor hurts, the crying hurts, my stomach hurts, my head hurts. Tears start streaming down my cheeks. The crying shoots sharp pains through my chest, and I just want it all to stop. Through my tears, I notice the red streaks on my wrists. It takes me back to that parking garage, to Dilaney's hot breath on my face, his knee pushed up between my legs and me panicking. I pull up my knees against my chest and hold myself, shaking uncontrollably. Exhausted.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Concussion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>force ma·jeure noun \ˌfȯrs-mä-ˈzhər, -mə-\ 1: superior or irresistible force. 2: an event or effect that cannot be reasonably anticipated or controlled. Alicia &amp; Will, seven months after she left L/G: "I don't know whatever happened between you and Will," Cary starts. "I do know it isn't just business."</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Force Majeure</strong>
</p><p>Chapter 10 – Concussion</p><p>"<em>I know the dark clouds won't stay, tomorrow is gonna be better."</em><br/><br/>- Joshua Radin (Tomorrow Is Gonna Be Better)</p><p>
  <strong>Friday, 7:50 AM</strong>
</p><p>At one point, I simply stopped crying. There were no tears left. So, I closed my eyes and just sat there. I don't remember for how long.I finally pushed myself up from off the floor and filled up the bath.</p><p>The hot water has calmed the muscles in my body. My phone is on the edge next to me. Chips are broken off from each side. The battery cap is missing. It looks ragged. Unlike me. The materialistic result of what happened last night.</p><p>I should call Cary.</p><p>He'll want to come over. I don't want him to. Frankly, I don't want to see anyone in this condition, even though I know I can't hide forever.</p><p>I gasped when I looked in the mirror. The left side of my face is blue and swollen. Underneath my eye, it seems black. I don't remember him hitting me there.</p><p>It makes me shiver just letting my thoughts go back to that parking garage. My left eye is about twice as small as the other. And all the crying didn't make it much better. But the most disturbing are the streaks on my wrists. My eyes catch the red streaks all the time. He grabbed me <em>so </em>tight. I <em>tried</em> to fight. I honestly tried…</p><p>I'm tearing up again.</p><p>I should stop that. It's not going to change anything. Nothing will.</p><p>
  <strong>Friday, 08:49 AM</strong>
</p><p>A face full of sorrow stares at me as I open the door.</p><p>"Alicia…" His voice is hoarse.</p><p>"I know," is all I manage to say in return. I should get used to this response.</p><p>For a moment, we simply stand there. He's probably taking in how disastrous I look, while I prepare myself that I'll need to tell him what happened. I need to man up.</p><p>The way we stand there takes me back to that night when I told him "I'm in." I remember thinking my life couldn't get any more complicated.</p><p>Now look at me.</p><p>
  <strong>Friday, 08:54 AM</strong>
</p><p>"Where did this spin out of control?" Cary is leaning against the kitchen counter.</p><p>"He waited for me at my car."</p><p>"<em>Why?</em>"</p><p>I shrug. "I guess, he got annoyed about the proceedings with Sandra."</p><p>"Annoyed doesn't do…<em>that.</em>" He points at my face.</p><p>"It got bad. He closed me in. It spun out of control. I–" I realize I can't and don't want to talk about it. I simply gesture to my face.</p><p>There's a deep frown on his face as he looks at me.</p><p>"You can't work like that."</p><p>"I'll work from home. It's not like we havent't done it before."</p><p>"Alicia…" He shakes his head in disbelief. "You need to rest. Just look at yourself<em>."</em></p><p>"Believe me, I have."</p><p>"I'm sorry." He observes me for a moment. "What did the doctor say?"</p><p>"Concussion."</p><p>"So, you <em>really</em> need to rest."</p><p>"I know," I sigh as I sit down on one of the bar stools.</p><p>He observes me for a moment and then asks, "You didn't drive home <em>yourself,</em> did you?"</p><p>I shake my head. <em>Here we go. </em>"Will did," I decide to just drop the bomb.</p><p>"<em>Will...? </em>Wait…what?"</p><p>"He was about to go home. Then found me."</p><p>Cary lets out some sort of laugh. "Really?"</p><p>"Really," I sigh.</p><p>"Then, what happened?"</p><p>"He called an ambulance."</p><p>"He came along?" He asks stunned.</p><p>"Well, I didn't exactly ask him to."</p><p>"No, no, it's good that he did. I mean, he couldn't have left you alone. I'm just…"</p><p>"I know, it's ridiculous."</p><p>"How long were you there?"</p><p>"I'm not sure. Hours? He gave me a ride home."</p><p>He frowns at me. "Did you guys talk?"</p><p>"Don't worry." I close my eyes for a second. "We didn't," I simply answer.</p><p>"That's not what I meant."</p><p>I fall silent, and so does he. I decide to refill my glass of water.</p><p>"I don't know whatever happened between you and Will," Cary starts. "I do know it isn't just business."</p><p>I smile sarcastically. "Well, it passed." I notice my voice cracks. That wasn't supposed to happen. Cary and I rarely talk about this, and I think, it's best if we keep it that way.</p><p>"Look, Alicia, the situation we're in isn't going to change. With them."</p><p>"I know." Let's change the subject. "So, get me up to speed with the firm."</p><p>
  <strong>Friday, 11:33 AM</strong>
</p><p>"Oh, dear God," is all Owen said when I opened the door.</p><p>I collapsed in his arms. It was only when he held me when I realized everything was going to be okay.</p><p>He ordered me to lie down in bed, then got me tea and crawled up next to me.</p><p>He got himself a bottle of red wine, stating that 'that face of yours definitely justifies me drinking'. I laughed at the first joke made about the whole situation.</p><p>I told him everything and just now dropped the bomb that Will drove me home and stayed here. If Owen's eyes could have popped out of his head, they would have done so by now.</p><p>"I mean, he <em>stayed </em>here?" Owen repeats what I just told him.</p><p>"Look, I don't know. I slept. He was still here when I woke up."</p><p>"That's the definition of staying, Alicia," he smirks at me.</p><p>I roll my eyes. "I mean, I didn't <em>ask </em>him to. He fell asleep at the table. I don't think he planned to stay either. It was…weird."</p><p>"Oh my, it worked," he then randomly exclaims.</p><p>I raise my brow at that. "What worked?"</p><p>He shakes his head in disbelief. "I can't believe that it did." Now I'm getting suspicious.</p><p>"Owen?" I prop myself up on my elbows and turn to face him. "<em>What </em>worked?"</p><p>"Oh, it's months ago. Remember back when he, note, <em>not </em>you, broke the news you left the firm when he visited me at the campus? Later I suggested…"</p><p>"You <em>suggested?" </em>This sounds concerning.</p><p>"That there was still room," he mentions in a matter of a fact way. "<em>Opportunities."</em></p><p>"You sound like mom."</p><p>"Well, wasn't I right? Look at you now. Divorced…"</p><p>"...Beat up," I add in cynically, I brush my bangs away with my hand, exposing the bruises.</p><p>"He was there for you."</p><p>"By coincidence."</p><p>"Doesn't change the fact that he <em>stayed</em> Alicia." His fingers tap on my shoulder. "<em>All </em>night<em>." </em>He grins.</p><p>I sigh and lay back in the cushions.</p><p>"You should invite him over," Owen winks at me. "Thank him."</p><p>"He doesn't want to be invited," I reply. "Or <em>thanked</em>."</p><p>"Then, why did he stay?"</p><p>I shrug. "Does it matter?"</p><p>"Well, he obviously still cares for you."</p><p>"I don't know," I mumble and heave a sigh. This is all too complicated.</p><p>"How can you not know? He stayed all night."</p><p>I shake my head. He doesn't. He just felt obliged. And I don't even want him to.</p><p>"I don't want him to care about me," I decide to reply.</p><p>"That's a lie."</p><p>I sigh. "Can we sleep now?"</p><p>"<em>You</em> can. I'll drink."</p><p>"Sure," I grin and prop myself up against his chest.</p><p>He wraps his arm around me. "I'm so sorry this happened. You don't deserve this."</p><p>A tear escapes my eye as I listen to his words. I doze off in some sort of sleep, but my mind is spinning. And it's not just the concussion. It's much more than that.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Complex Loyalties</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>force ma·jeure noun \ˌfȯrs-mä-ˈzhər, -mə-\ 1: superior or irresistible force. 2: an event or effect that cannot be reasonably anticipated or controlled. Alicia &amp; Will, seven months after she left L/G: "You want to go see her." "No," my voice sounds dark. "It wasn't a question." I turn my face towards Kalinda. "I don't want to see her. That's what makes all this so twisted."</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Force Majeure</strong>
</p><p>Chapter 11 – Complex Loyalties</p><p>"<em>Take a cup when your spirit's low"<br/><br/></em>- Gregory Porter (Liquid Spirit)</p><p>
  <strong>Friday, 7:50 AM</strong>
</p><p>My car took me back to work. I don't remember the road at all. I simply blinked my way through it. My eyes are heavy with sleep, and I'm still wearing yesterday's clothes.</p><p>Now, I'm in the parking garage. I lean back in the driver's seat and rub my eyes once more. As I open them and let out a deep yawn, my eye falls on the blue plastic bag on the floor of the passenger seat. The nurse gave it to us on our way out. And Alicia didn't take it with her. I forgot about it. And all that's in there is her ripped blouse and the earrings she was wearing. Still, they're her belongings. <em>Shit. </em></p><p>I rub my face and then feel the stubble of my beard. I didn't shave last night.</p><p>I didn't do anything.</p><p>I just sat there, at <em>her </em>dining table in <em>her </em>apartment. That thought in itself confuses me so much that I decide to get out of the car and into the elevator.</p><p>Let's get passed this.</p><p>
  <strong>Friday, 2:00 PM</strong>
</p><p>I'm clearly not passed this.</p><p>The blue bag on the couch seems to continuously draw my attention. No matter what file I'm reading or any time I am on the phone, my eyes are drawn to that bag, and it distracts me.</p><p>I get up from my chair and throw it on the floor, out of sight from my desk. I sit back down and bury my head in my hands. I <em>need </em>sleep. And I feel like I need time to think.</p><p>Should I ask my assistant to send that bag to her house? Would that be rude? I don't want to go by her house with that bag. I don't want to give off the wrong impression. I'm not even sure what impression that would be.</p><p>My mind is spinning. Not just about the bag, but all of it.</p><p>I <em>stayed</em>.</p><p>I was there, <em>all night. </em>Why? Why didn't I just call Owen? It would have been fine. He would have understood. I keep asking myself if, somehow subconsciously, I wanted to be there for her. That it felt good to be there. But I hated it. I felt terrible. I didn't <em>want </em>to stay, did I? No.</p><p>Next, I start thinking about the scenario where I wouldn't have been the one to walk in the parking garage at that moment. A stranger would have called 911, and someone would have informed me sometime today that Alicia got hurt by our client. What would I have done? Would I visit her? Would I have cared? Or was it simply seeing what terrible shape she was in that made me want to care for her?</p><p>It gives me shivers, every time my mind goes back to how she laid there, collapsed against the column. Pale, her jaw swollen and her face bruised. I wanted to do much more for her. When she finally fell asleep, I wanted to lay down next to her, stroke her hair and whisper comforting words. But that has passed. That is never going to happen again.</p><p>My eyes start burning. I want to tell myself that it's the lack of sleep and the brightness of my computer screen, but it's not that.</p><p>"Short night sleep?"</p><p>A voice breaks through my thoughts as I look up to see Diane, standing in my doorway.</p><p>"No sleep," I correct her with a grouchy voice and clear my throat.</p><p>"Should I stop asking questions?" She jokes light-heartedly as she walks in.</p><p>I grin at that. "No, I–" Should I even start about me staying with her? What does that imply?</p><p>"Did you talk to David?" She asks, ignoring the fact I just broke off my sentence.</p><p>"He wasn't in."</p><p>"He is now," she replies.</p><p>"Oh." I don't feel too eager to talk to him.</p><p>"We need to hear what went down in that meeting room beforehand."</p><p>"Yeah," I answer reluctantly.</p><p>"Do you know what exactly happened in that parking garage?"</p><p>"I don't know," I sigh. I push my chair back and get up.</p><p>I walk to the window, my back towards Diane. My eyes are still burning. I don't want to do this.</p><p>"Do you think one of us should visit?" Diane sounds softer than I'm used to. She's clearly affected by the news.</p><p>"She doesn't want us there." It comes out colder than I intended.</p><p>"Send flowers, then?"</p><p>I purse my lips. We could do that. I don't know what to do.</p><p>We fall silent.</p><p>"I was with her," I plainly state, and tuck my hands into my pockets. I'm still staring out the window. I don't know why I tell her that. It feels like a confession.</p><p>"I heard."</p><p>I turn around, my brow arched in confusion.</p><p>"Kalinda."</p><p><em>Right</em>.</p><p>"I understand," she continues. "You did the right thing."</p><p>"Yeah, well…," I mumble. "It could have been worse." I'm doing my very best to sound as distant as I'd like to be.</p><p>
  <strong>Friday, 3:08 PM</strong>
</p><p>I stand in the hallway when I see David talk to Diane in her office.</p><p>"I gave them all the information I had," I hear David say to Diane as I walk in.</p><p>"Who's them?" I ask, joining the conversation.</p><p>"The police."</p><p>"Good," Diane answers from behind her desk.</p><p>"I don't understand how you didn't see this coming."</p><p>"I was simply doing my <em>job," </em>he says, throwing his hands in the air.</p><p>"Did he threat her during negotiations?" I realize, I'm getting worked up about the whole situation.</p><p>He sighs. "It's a divorce<em>, </em>Will. Men get possessive. <em>Worked up," </em>he gives me a look as if my behaviour is an example.</p><p>"Did he threaten her?" I ask again, insisting on him to answer.</p><p>"No. If I would have seen this coming, I would have called security." He lifts himself up of Diane's desk.</p><p>I shake my head in frustration.</p><p>"You don't believe that?"</p><p>"I don't know. I just don't understand–"</p><p>"I know, she is our competition. I want to wreck that ridiculous firm of hers–"</p><p>"You don't have <em>any </em>boundaries, do you?" I cut him off.</p><p>"Will." Diane interferes and gives me a look, pleading me to stop talking.</p><p>"You know better, Will. I have nothing to do with this. Don't talk to me as if I'm responsible, or that I <em>wanted </em>this to happen. That's disgusting."</p><p>"I'm sorry, but I think you accept a lot more from a man like that than any sane person would."</p><p>"Don't be ridiculous."</p><p>I'm about to continue when I hear Kalinda's voice. "They got him."</p><p>I turn around.</p><p>"Dilaney," she explains. "The police just gave me a call."</p><p>I swallow away my anger and look at David. "Good."</p><p>"Are we sending her flowers or something?" David asks.</p><p>"We should," Diane chimes in.</p><p>"Make sure I get the card to write my best wishes." With that, David leaves the office.</p><p>Diane looks at me. "You need to calm down."</p><p>Without saying another word, I head back to my office and make my way to my desk.</p><p>Kalinda watches me from my door as I sit back down in my desk. "Long night?"</p><p>
  <strong>Friday, 7:45 PM</strong>
</p><p>She told me I needed to drink. I sip my Scotch, my elbows finding support on the oak wood bar. Kalinda sits next to me, at the corner of the bar.</p><p>I watch her as she drinks her wine. Now, I consider her a friend. With us, it tends to shift. She's a beautiful woman with a confidence that sometimes makes me insecure. I'm never quite sure what to make of her, or of the relationship we have. I like to think she's always honest me. And I also like think that whatever I tell her, doesn't go anywhere. But she has her ways, and her complex loyalties I'll never quite understand.</p><p>"What's that bag?" She asks me, hinting to the bag that I dropped on the empty stool in between us.</p><p>"See for yourself," I gesture for her to have a look.</p><p>"Ah," she says as she opens it up. "This is Alicia's."</p><p>I don't even know why I brought it with me here. I could have just left it in the car.</p><p>"I forgot to bring it inside last night," I explain, and take another sip. The strong liquid burning in my throat feels good.</p><p>"Take it to her," she says.</p><p>"No," I shake my head. "Thought about sending it."</p><p>"Don't do that." She puts it back down. "Want me to take it?"</p><p>I turn my head towards her, a bit surprised by the offer. "I don't know."</p><p>We fall silent again.</p><p>She puts her glass down and turns her face towards me. "It really got to you, didn't it?"</p><p>"What?" </p><p>"Last night."</p><p>"It just…-" I stop my words. "I don't know." I take another sip. "This time, I really don't know. She was so…hurt."</p><p>"Yeah," Kalinda responds. I never need to go into detail with her.</p><p>"I didn't know what else to do then, but to stay."</p><p>"She was lucky to have you there."</p><p>I shake my head in frustration. I grin, scornfully almost.</p><p>"Will, she was lucky to have you there," she repeats.</p><p>But I don't want to hear it.</p><p>It's as if the universe is playing tricks with me. I don't <em>want </em>to care for her. I decided we were over and done, and now this situation is being thrown at me. And it's not like it was news to me that I still care, I just didn't need to be confronted with that. Not now, not like this. Not after that night in my office when I realized how nothing was left. How we were so desperately broken and how I didn't want to attempt to fix it ever again.</p><p>That night… I don't know why we were that weak. It wasn't supposed to happen. Last night wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to hold her hand, and stay at her house. None of that was supposed to happen. Maybe none of it was <em>ever </em>supposed to. Perhaps I pushed my luck when I got her in at L/G. Maybe that was the first mistake.</p><p>Don't ever push your luck.</p><p>Maybe, in some twisted way, it all comes back to that. I tried too hard, I wanted too much.</p><p>"Have you talked to her?" Kalinda asks, pulling me away from my thoughts. </p><p>I don't respond.</p><p>"At all?"</p><p>I just shake my head.</p><p>"You want to go see her."</p><p>"No." My voice comes from far away, dark and distant.</p><p>"It wasn't a question."</p><p>I turn my face towards her. "I <em>don't </em>want to see her. That's what makes all this so…twisted."</p><p>She gives me a look that tells me she doesn't agree with me. And I know, I don't agree with myself either.</p><p>Kalinda isn't the only one with complex loyalties, I realize.</p><hr/><p> </p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Breaking News</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>force ma·jeure noun \ˌfȯrs-mä-ˈzhər, -mə-\ 1: superior or irresistible force. 2: an event or effect that cannot be reasonably anticipated or controlled. Alicia &amp; Will, 7 months after she left L/G: "We're starting our own firm." Will breathes heavily but doesn't say a word. His jaw tightens. He's not talking. That's the worst part. I want him to yell, or throw things at me.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Author's note: I had actually written this bit before season 5 started. I don't want to dwell on this part too long, since we've all read it in many different versions, discussed it and, most importantly, watched the genius scene on TGW itself. I decided to write one flashback about this, which is this chapter. After this, the story goes back to where we left off!</p><p>Thanks: as always, to Jen, for reading each chapter with care and patience, correcting my comma's and telling me how to improve each and every single word.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <strong>Force Majeure</strong>
</p><p>Chapter 12 – Breaking News<br/>(Flashback to 207 days ago)</p><p>"<em>You are the target he will pursue."<br/></em>- Beast (Arrow)</p><p>
  <strong>Thursday, 4:24 PM</strong>
</p><p>Their offices are approaching way too quickly. Cary's quick and confident pace tells me that there is no turning back now. We need to act now, the game is over.</p><p>My world is about to change.</p><p>I've known that for weeks now. It's not like it's a surprise or that I haven't realized. I simply hadn't figured out how to prepare for this conversation. I thought about it, about what to say and how to say it and when to say it. But there was no right time for this. This is going to be destructive, no matter how I will approach it.</p><p>As we walk, I realize this will be the last time working here. The last time walking freely through these halls. The last time talking to Will.</p><p>Suddenly I want to end this walk. I'd give the world to just have one more moment with Will before I blow all this up. To just sit in his office for a little while, crack jokes with him, open a beer, and just have a careless conversation…We're passed that.</p><p>We turn the corner, now we're in sight of both Will and Diane's offices. Cary is supposed to talk to Diane, and I'll go to Will.</p><p>We tossed a coin.</p><p>I lost.</p><p>Diane stands up from her desk as she sees the both of us approach. There's something in the way she stares at me that tells me she <em>knows. </em>I freeze in my steps.</p><p>"Come on," Cary hisses as he realize I stopped walking. "This is it."</p><p>I glance over to Will's office. He's calmly sitting behind his computer. He doesn't see what's taking place right in front of him.</p><p>"What's going on?" Diane asks with a cold voice.</p><p>"We need to talk," Cary answers and quickly heads in her office, closing the door behind him.</p><p>I'm left alone in the hallway. I feel lost, but then Will looks up to me, and our eyes meet. He gestures me to come in.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, God.</em>
</p><p>I wish the world would just disappear right now.</p><p>
  <em>Let something happen, let something happen.</em>
</p><p>Nothing happens.</p><p>Cary sat down in front of Diane's desk. Diane's watching me. Cary turns around in his chair, throwing me a look to get over myself and walk in. <em>This is what you wanted, Alicia, </em>I tell myself. <em>Suck it up. There is no 'right' moment to do this. It's going to be ugly, and you know it.</em></p><p>Numb, I walk into Will's office.</p><p>He gets up from his laptop.</p><p>"Hi," he smiles.</p><p>His smile comforts me. I realize the irony of the situation. Me being calmed down by his smile while I know that what I'm about to tell him is going to make him rage with anger.</p><p>He looks over at Diane's office. "What's that about?"</p><p>I didn't expect a question that quickly.</p><p>"We need to talk," is all I say.</p><p>I didn't plan for him to see Cary. <em>Stupid. </em></p><p>A deep frown appears on his face.</p><p>"About what?" He tilts his head as he notices the letter in my hand.</p><p>We both just stand there. I glance at the couch. Should we do this sitting down?</p><p><em>We should sit</em>, I decide. I take in a deep breath and sit down on his couch. He sits down in his chair, not once losing track of me.</p><p>"About <em>what</em>?" He repeats, colder this time, as he glances over to Diane's office once more.</p><p>He stares back at me. He knows.</p><p>He just wants me to say it.</p><p>My hand is trembling and I hear my breathing increase. Should I introduce it? Should I start with an explanation? Should I say something about us first? That I never wanted to hurt him? That I can't take my thoughts off of him? <em>I just don't know.</em></p><p>He turns in his chair to look back at Cary once more. So do I. Within seconds, I see Diane get up. Now she <em>really </em>knows.</p><p>"I'm resigning," I just blurt out, panicking. My voice sounds weaker than I hoped.</p><p>Will's eyes shoot straight back at me.</p><p>"<em>What?" </em></p><p>I avert my gaze for a moment and put the letter on the coffee table that stands between us. I officially crossed the line right now. "So is Cary," I continue. "…So are six other fourth years."</p><p>I regain myself and stare straight into his eyes, eyes that have grown big, black, and distant.</p><p>"We're starting our own firm."</p><p>Will breathes heavily but doesn't say a word. He glances over to Diane's office once more. I see them exchange looks. Now they both know.</p><p>His jaw tightens.</p><p>He makes a fist and pensively taps it on the leather chair.</p><p>He's not talking.</p><p>That's the worst part. I want him to yell, or throw things at me. <em>Am I supposed to get up and leave now?</em></p><p>I just sit there, nailed to the couch. My hands are clenched together in my lap. We've spent so much time on this couch. We drank beers, worked together, made out...</p><p>My heart is raging against my chest. I don't know what to do. I'm too scared to move, to look into Diane's office again, and to see what Cary's doing.</p><p>He ducks his head, averting his gaze from mine and then loosens his tie a bit. His lips still clenched together.</p><p>Next, he looks back up to me.</p><p>"Well played." His voice is hoarse.</p><p><em>Well played? </em>I don't know what to say to that.</p><p>Immediately, I start to regret my decision. All of it. But there's no going back now. And I don't <em>want</em> to go back. I made the right decision. This is the hardest part.</p><p>"Will, I…" I start stuttering.</p><p>He shakes his head. "I don't need to hear it."</p><p>I bite my lip. I think of how to make this better. But it's not going to get any better.</p><p>I…" I start again, without having any clue of what I want to say. Nothing comes out. My mind is blank.</p><p>"Stop it."</p><p>I close my eyes at the sound of his voice and try to swallow away the lump that's forming in my throat.</p><p>I look up at the sound of a door slam open.</p><p>Diane bursts into Will's office. Cary is standing in the hallway.</p><p>"Out." Her voice is calm but her eyes rage with anger. "<em>Right. Now."</em></p><p>My whole body feels heavy. I need to get up from this couch, but I can't get my body to move.</p><p>I look back at Cary who gestures me to get moving. It feels like an eternity, but I finally get myself up off the couch.</p><p>Will stays put. Diane stands there, in the doorpost, holding the door for me. I don't look at her as I pass her.</p><p>"Diane gave us ten minutes," Cary whispers as soon as I'm out.</p><p>"Ok," I nod. Tears form in my eyes at the thought of what just went down. I expected Will to yell in my face, to say that he hates me or any other action. I didn't expect him to simply sit there and listen.</p><p>I turn around one more time to look at what's going on between Will and Diane. I startle at the sight at Will. He got up and is now staring through the glass wall, straight into my eyes.</p><p>Our eye contact is immediate and painful.</p><p>I don't know how to turn around from this.</p><p>"It's nine minutes now Alicia," Cary mutters impatiently. "Don't push this."</p><p>I'm still staring at Will. Desperately trying to tell him how sorry I am. How it was never meant personal.</p><p>Suddenly, he bursts out of his office.</p><p>"You DON'T do that," he yells as he approaches me. "Listen to me <em>very </em>carefully." He's so close I can smell his all too familiar cologne.</p><p>"You don't do that. You don't <em>look </em>at me, you don't <em>talk</em> to me. You do NOTHING, but LEAVE. Understood?"</p><p>The tears that I've been blinking away now form in the corners of my eyes.</p><p>"<em>Understood?"</em></p><p>I nod. It's all I can do. My whole body is trembling now. I've never seen him like this.</p><p>He opens his mouth again but swallows first in an attempt to get his breathing under control.</p><p>"Don't <em>ever </em>come back to me." His voice is dark and cold. "Because I won't be here waiting."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Little Miss Loy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Force ma·jeure noun \ˌfo rs-mä-ˈzhər, -mə-\ 1: superior or irresistible force. 2: an event or effect that cannot be reasonably anticipated or controlled. Alicia &amp; Will, 7 months after she left L/G: "Ms. Loy," I politely reply and reach out to shake her hand. "I'm sorry to come here unannounced, I was just about to leave." "No, you were just talking to my granddaughter," she smiles. "Red wine?" She holds the bottle up to me. "Or did you come all this way to stand in a doorway?"</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Force Majeure</strong>
</p><p>Chapter 13 – Little Miss Loy</p><p><em>"I hate to turn up out of the blue, uninvited. But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it."<br/></em>- Adele (Someone Like You)</p><p>
  <strong>Monday, 05:40 PM</strong>
</p><p>I glance at the blue bag in my hand as the elevator takes me up to her floor. It sat on my couch the whole weekend until I decided to take it back to work this morning and return it at the end of the day.</p><p>I let out a deep sigh and shake my head as I realize how returning a blood stained blouse is more so traumatizing than a nice gesture.</p><p>Is this another one of my actions I'm going to regret later? One that's going to hunt me down for days, weeks or years to come? It wouldn't be the first time.</p><p>I like to think that deep down inside, I'm still a good person. She's my competition after all, but she isn't my enemy. No matter how much we played each other in court these past few months, no matter how I told her <em>never </em>come back to me, and no matter how I brushed her off after we did end up all over each other in my office… It seemed irrelevant as soon as I saw her collapsed on the concrete like that.</p><p>It doesn't mean we're all good. Because we're not. And I don't want us to be. Still, the normal, <em>civil, </em>thing to do is to return her belongings.</p><p>I shouldn't be overthinking this.</p><p>Drop off the bag and keep the same distance as that Friday morning. Most will probably come naturally. And after that, things will go back to normal.</p><p>For a brief moment, I stand in front of her doorpost, debating whether or not to ring the door bell.</p><p>
  <em>Just do it already.</em>
</p><p>Finally, I ring her doorbell.</p><p>The door opens, and I look in a pair of dark brown eyes that, I never noticed until now, look so much like Alicia's.</p><p>"Will?"</p><p>Grace. I let go of a breath I didn't know I was holding. I was expecting to see Alicia. The tension building up inside of me was because I was anticipating… well, Alicia. Not her daughter.</p><p>"Hi," I reply, slightly uncomfortable. See, I <em>should</em> have thought through every possible scenario because I did not prepare for her daughter to open the door.</p><p>The surprised look on her face quickly shifts into a smile. "How are you?" She opens the door a bit further.</p><p>"Great." I reply bluntly, entirely unsure of what to say next. I immediately begin to wonder what she knows and doesn't know about what happened to her mother that Thursday night, and who was with her.</p><p>"You?" I return the question.</p><p>"I'm fine."</p><p>"How's school?" I ask, trying to act casual by leaning with one hand against the doorway. <em>Really Will?</em></p><p>"It's fine." She smirks at me.</p><p><em>Right</em>. This small talk is not going anywhere.</p><p>"You're here to see Mom?"</p><p>Not exactly. Or, yes, in a way. But I wasn't intending to come <em>see </em>her as in paying a visit.</p><p>"How is she doing?" I decide to ask.</p><p>"Better." She's gestures inside. "She's taking a nap right now. I could wake her up if you want me to?"</p><p>"No, no, it's not important." This is going great. Talking to her daughter while she's asleep.</p><p>"Ok…" She gives me a questioning look. "So, why are you here?"</p><p>Good point. I hint at the bag in my hand. "I just came by to return this."</p><p>"What is that?"</p><p>"It's her personal things. The bag, I forgot to take it out of my car." Now, I'm really hoping this isn't news to her. "Here."</p><p>She squints her eyes at me, and then reluctantly takes the bag from my hand in hers. "Thanks…"</p><p>"No problem."</p><p>She seems unsure what to do next. <em>She isn't the only one.</em></p><p>Suddenly, a sharp "Who's at the door?" brings an end to our awkward conversation.</p><p>Veronica. Unmistakeably, Veronica.</p><p>"It's Will," Grace replies. She gives me an apologetic smile as she says my name. "Will Gardner," she turns around. "From Mom's old work."</p><p>"Yes, I know about <em>Will Gardner</em>." The way she pronounces my name doesn't tell me whether that's a positive or a negative association.</p><p>"I really should get going," I mutter to Grace, hoping to find an opportunity to get back in the elevator before Veronica shows up.</p><p>"Let me say hello!" Veronica's voice comes closer, and before I know it, she walks straight up to me. Too late to turn around now.</p><p>"What a wonderful surprise to see you here," she says right as she sees me. Grace leaves us.</p><p>"Ms. Loy," I politely reply and reach out to shake her hand. "I'm sorry to come here, unannounced. I was just about to leave."</p><p>"No, you were just talking to my granddaughter," she smiles.</p><p>"Yes. Well, I only came by to return the bag from the hospital."</p><p>"Right." She leaves the door open and walks into the kitchen. I'm still standing in the doorway intending to stay there or at least, not get in any further. "Red wine?" She holds the bottle up to me.</p><p>I open my mouth, but don't reply immediately.</p><p>"Or did you come all this way to stand in a doorpost?" She shouts jovially from the kitchen.</p><p>I swallow hard, thinking about what to do. I really shouldn't go inside. Alicia is going to hate me for doing that. And I'm going to hate <em>myself</em> for doing that. This definitely wasn't part of the plan.</p><p>But Veronica quickly pours in two glasses of wine and walks back to me. "Now, come on in so I can close the door." She hands me a glass that I reluctantly accept.</p><p>"Why so hesitant?"</p><p>"Alicia and I are not on the best of terms," I say quietly. <em>Understatement of the century.</em></p><p>She raises her brow at me. "Right. Well, she's asleep. But as her mother, I'd like to invite you in and hear about what happened."</p><p>I nod. I get that. She wants to know what happened to her daughter. I probably shouldn't leave like this.</p><p>"Ok." I finally step in the hallway, and she closes the door behind me.</p><p>
  <strong>Monday, 05:55 PM</strong>
</p><p>"How is she doing?" I ask as I sit down on one of the bar stools.</p><p>"Oh, God, I don't know," Veronica sighs. "She doesn't talk about it. Her face looks much more painful than she'll <em>ever</em> admit," she raises her hands in the air in frustration. "She sleeps half the day, and I just don't know…" She shakes her head and pauses. "I don't how to make it better."</p><p><em>Did her voice just crack?</em> I realize she's almost getting emotional talking about it.</p><p>"It was really bad when I found her," I say, staring to the ground in an attempt to avoid eye contact.</p><p>She moves closer to me and places her hand on my wrist. "Thank you for taking care of my daughter."</p><p>Reluctantly, I look up. "You're welcome."</p><p>She nods, then pulls back her hand. "I know, you two… Well, it's complicated."</p><p>I don't really respond.</p><p>"Or maybe Alicia is just <em>making </em>things complicated," she sighs. "She's awfully good at that."</p><p>I stay quiet once more.</p><p>Then, a phone starts ringing.</p><p>"One second," Veronica says before she hurries into the living room.</p><p>I look around the kitchen. Here I am <em>again, </em>unplanned. How is this happening?</p><p>"Will?"</p><p>I turn around at the sound of my name. It's Grace again, now wearing a coat and scarf, obviously on her way out.</p><p>"Thank you," she says.</p><p>"For what?" I ask, unsure of what she's getting at.</p><p>"For taking care of my mom the other night."</p><p>"Oh, you don't need to thank me."</p><p>"I know. Still," she shrugs and offers me a smile.</p><p>I smile back. "You're welcome."</p><p>She turns around to head out, but stops in her steps and looks back to me once more.</p><p>"Mom never wanted us to know you used to come over… But I know she was, you know, happy back then."</p><p>
  <em>Happy. </em>
</p><p>There's something about how she says that word that silences all other noises in the apartment. It's a word I haven't heard or used in months. And the way Grace says it reminds me of how Alicia once whispered that in my ear. "<em>This is the happiest I've ever been." </em>The memory hurts.</p><p>The muscles in my face seem to freeze and I don't know how to respond to Grace.</p><p>"Anyways, I'm going to the movies," she continues casually. "Good night."</p><p>"Good night, Grace," I reply with hoarse throat.</p><p>I turn back to my glass of wine and let the words of this young adult sink in. A few years ago, I spent hours thinking how it would be to start an actual life with her and her children. How we could make it work. How I would get rid of all the doubt she had about the two of us. But that's passed.</p><p>"Grace left?" Veronica asks as she walks back from the living room.</p><p>"Yes, you just missed her."</p><p>"Oh, well." She gets her glass of wine and takes one more sip. "Now, tell me what happened that night."</p><p>But before I can open my mouth, we hear a door open. We both turn around at the sound.</p><p>As I do, I look straight into the dark and tired eyes of Alicia.</p><p>"Hi." Her voice is hoarse. She crosses her arms in front of her body.</p><p>"Hi," I reply, with almost less volume than she used. My heart sinks as I look at her face.</p><p>The side where he hit her is definitely less swollen, but dark purple and black bruises give away what happened. On top of that, it seems as if she lost weight. The dark circles under her eyes give away that she hasn't slept at all since I left that morning. She looks pale, much worse than the night I found her. That is what shocks me the most.</p><p>She just stands there, arms crossed in front of her body, a cardigan wrapped around her body. The silence is unbearable.</p><p>Veronica clears her throat and grabs her glass from the counter top. "I'll be in the other room."</p><p>
  <em>I have no idea what to say next.</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Voices</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>force ma·jeure noun \ˌfȯrs-mä-ˈzhər, -mə-\ 1: superior or irresistible force. 2: an event or effect that cannot be reasonably anticipated or controlled. Alicia &amp; Will, seven months after she left L/G: Because that's the thing with Will. If he opens up, if he decides to let me in, there's so much love and warmth in his eyes, his words, and his hands. He'll give you all of it.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Force Majeure</strong>
</p><p>Chapter 14 – Voices</p><p><em>"By the time I recognize this moment, the moment will be gone."</em><br/>- John Mayer (Clarity)</p><p>
  <strong>Monday, 5:55 PM</strong>
</p><p>Gently, I'm woken up by the sound of voices coming from the kitchen. I glance at my watch. 6 PM. This concussion messed up my rhythm.</p><p>I lift my head up from the pillow. The pounding hits in immediately. This morning, I thought it had somewhat subsided, but now it's back. Worse, even.</p><p>I prop myself up against the pillows and listen to the voices coming from my in the kitchen while I check my work phone. 44 unread e-mails. 3 missed calls.</p><p>I dim the screen again and close my eyes. <em>Tomorrow.</em></p><p>A soft knock on the door makes me open my eyes again. Grace pops her head around the door. "Hi, Mom?"</p><p>"Grace," I smile at her.</p><p>"Did you sleep well?"</p><p>"Yes, actually. I did."</p><p>"You slept through dinner. You should eat something."</p><p>I smile at the concerned look in her eyes. "I will."</p><p>"You know, Will's here?"</p><p>My mouth drops open in surprise. "<em>Will?"</em></p><p>She nods.</p><p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p><p>"Are you sure?"</p><p>"Yes, I'm sure. Will Gardner," she replies, somewhat annoyed. "I <em>know</em> who he is."</p><p>"I know," I stutter. "But…when did he…?"</p><p>"Five minutes ago. Grandma's talking to him in the kitchen. Thought you might wanna know."</p><p>I roll my eyes in frustration. "Well, yes, thank you." I hastily look for something to cover up my pyjamas. "Why is he here?"</p><p>"To see you, I guess?" She shrugs. "I'm off to the movies. I'll text you when we go home, ok?"</p><p>"Ok, honey," I give her a forced smile, but all I can think about is the fact that Will is in my kitchen. Once more.</p><p>
  <strong>Monday, 6:05 PM</strong>
</p><p>I take a deep breath and step into the kitchen. I spot my mom, leaning against the kitchen counters. Will is sitting on a bar stool. Both turn around at the sound of my footsteps.</p><p>I stare straight into Will's eyes. His mouth opens, but he doesn't speak.</p><p>"Hi," is all I say. My voice sounds tired.</p><p>I notice that Mom's holding a glass of wine in her hand. So is Will. <em>This is odd.</em></p><p><em>Why is he here? </em>Our encounter Friday morning was <em>awkward,</em> to say the least.</p><p>"Hi," Will says back. He sounds and looks as if he just got the shock of a lifetime seeing me.</p><p>I know, it's bad. If anything, it got worse compared to the night it happened.</p><p>I don't like it that he sees me like this. I don't want to show him that I'm not doing okay, that my appearance got worse. That I don't eat much, that I don't sleep because I dream about the attack every night. I don't want him to know that. But now he's here and God knows what my mother told him already.</p><p>"I'll be in the other room," she simply states.</p><p>I watch her leave.</p><p>"Right," I just respond and wait until she leaves. <em>Well, at least she isn't trying to work her way in a conversation with the both of us.</em></p><p>Once we're alone, I walk over to where she was standing, next to the counter top.</p><p>I watch Will sit there. I'm still processing that he's in my apartment. <em>Again. </em>I suddenly, more like vividly remember Thursday night. How I stood here, back from the hospital, losing my balance due to the dizziness and pain. How he wrapped his arm around me, how he put me to bed. How he checked up on me in the middle of the night. I barely responded, but I felt safe, knowing he was still with me. <em>He made me feel safe.</em></p><p>But the next morning, his soft voice and caring looks had been traded in for the usual cold stares, and he had made it very clear he didn't stay because he wanted to. He made his way out of here without giving me to opportunity to thank him. So, if anything, I didn't expect him to turn up in my apartment.</p><p>I take a deep breath, thinking of what to say next. But doing so causes a sharp pain to shoot through my chest. <em>That's the broken rib.</em></p><p>"You want to sit down?" He looks worried after seeing me cringe.</p><p>"No, I'm fine," I respond quickly.</p><p>
  <em>I'm not. I'm in pain. </em>
</p><p>"What are you doing here?" I decide to ask.</p><p>He sighs. "I came by to give you the bag from the hospital." He points at the plastic bag on the counter. "I forgot to bring it upstairs with us when we…"</p><p>"Right." I cut him off. <em>When you brought me home.</em> "Thank you."</p><p>I look at the bag, but somehow I feel a certain constraint to actually look at what it's carrying.</p><p>Instead, I look back up to Will. "I didn't expect you to come here."</p><p>"I understand." He takes the last sip from his wine and puts the glass back down on the counter. He seems relieved it's empty. "I just wanted to drop off the bag. Your mom, she asked me in… –"</p><p>"You don't have to explain."</p><p>He looks at me for a while. "How is the pain?"</p><p>"Better," I lie. I don't want to tell him how I feel. Not now. Because it makes me want to collapse in his arms. And I can't have that. I need to do this myself. Besides, his arms aren't mine to collapse in. They haven't been for years.</p><p>I keep telling myself he's still my competition. And I know, I know that his eyes have softened a couple times that night, but that doesn't mean anything. Him asking me how I'm doing is just him being polite. I like to think it's just that.</p><p>"Thanks for the flowers," I say, in an attempt to start some sort of conversation. I gesture at the big white bouquet in the hallway.</p><p>"Firm send them," he responds, as he props his elbows on the counter, clasping his fingers together.</p><p>"I sent them a thank you card. But tell them in person. It means a lot."</p><p>"I will," He nods.</p><p>I give the bag another stare, wondering what's in there, but still not eager to open it up.</p><p>"I didn't know what to do with it," Will starts again. "It felt wrong not to give it back. I thought about sending it over. I just, didn't want to traumatize you or… I don't know." He shakes his head.</p><p>"What's in it?"</p><p>"The blouse you were wearing. Earrings."</p><p>I nod. Reluctantly, I open up the bag. My hand touches the silk material of the blouse. I take it out. I freeze up instantly as I see how it got torn up.</p><p>"God," I whisper shocked. "He really ripped it apart."</p><p>"Yeah," he mumbles.</p><p>It's making me feel sick. I don't want to see this again. I don't need to see the rest, and I don't care about the earrings.</p><p>Decisively, I put the blouse back in the bag and open the trashcan. It's upsetting me more than I thought. I realize I'm trembling as the trashcan shuts.</p><p>Trembling with exhaustion, anger, and fear. Seeing that piece of clothing makes me feel so humiliated. I stay put, my back towards Will.</p><p>I don't want him to see me like this. Not again. Thursday was enough.</p><p>"I'm sorry for bringing it over." The softness in his voice is back. I hear him get up and walk over to me. "I shouldn't have done that. I didn't know if it was the right thing…" He sounds worried. I don't want him to be worried.</p><p>"Will…" I turn around. I notice he stops in his steps, awfully close to me. <em>Why did he walk over to me?</em> "It's fine," I quickly add. "You didn't need to come here."</p><p>"I know." He purses his lips and frowns.</p><p>Him standing this close to me confuses me. Him being here in the first place is confusing me. Finding him asleep on my dining table confused me. And even more so the way he woke up and treated me with the distance I hadn't seen the night before. So, why is he here now?</p><p>"I should get going," he murmurs.</p><p>I think, I see a flash of disappointment in his eyes. Did I stop something from happening by telling him off? And what would that be, exactly?</p><p>I look at him. He seems less tense, his shoulders dropped. I'm slowly starting to relax as well, accepting that he's in my kitchen. Now, I just want to know why, because that bag seems just an excuse.</p><p>"Why did you come here?" I ask, softer this time.</p><p>"Because of the bag," he replies as if it's the obvious answer.</p><p>"You could have sent it over." I find his eyes as I say that. <em>There's more. Tell me. Tell me why you're here now.</em></p><p>"Like I said, it didn't feel right doing so."</p><p>"That's it?"</p><p>He sighs. Clearly, he doesn't like the way this conversation is going. Maybe he doesn't know the answer himself.</p><p>"You're right." He takes a step back from me and turns back to the stool. "I shouldn't be here."</p><p>I don't understand. I don't understand any of it. He doesn't <em>have </em>to be here. No one asked him to. I'm not sure if I even wanted him to.</p><p>I open my mouth to let out my frustration, but I know I'm not going to get any answers so I take a deep breath and decide not to say anything else. Not tonight.</p><p>"I heard the police arrested Dilaney," he starts as he gets his coat.</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>He nods and heads to the door. He already has the door handle in his hand when I realize something.</p><p>"The police might ask you for a statement," I tell him.</p><p>"I know," he turns around. "I already talked to them."</p><p>"When?" I ask confused.</p><p>"At the hospital."</p><p>"Right…" I look away, thinking back to that night. How he sat down next to my bed. I had somehow forgot that. Or blocked that. I'm not so sure now.</p><p>I look back up to him.</p><p>"They have my number," he says. "If they need to know anything else."</p><p>"Right. Ok." I pause for a moment. "Great."</p><p>He nods. "Good night."</p><p>"Thanks…for bringing over the bag."</p><p>"No problem." He doesn't look at me. Just like Friday morning, he's not going to let me thank me. "Take care."</p><p>He turns around to leave, but just before he does, I say softly, "Maybe we should talk some time?"</p><p>He turns back around. "I don't think we should." His voice is flat, unemotional.</p><p>I swallow hard. I didn't think he'd say that. I know he's hurt, but then he did visit tonight.</p><p>"Are you sure?" I try.</p><p>"Alicia," he licks his lips and shakes his head. "I don't think we should," he repeats.</p><p>I'm sure he can see the disappointment in my eyes. I thought that perhaps with everything that happened in the past days somehow brought us closer together, whether I liked it or not.</p><p>"Ok," I just say, suddenly eager to close the door behind him. "Good night then."</p><p>"Good night."</p><p>I close the door.</p><p>Apparently, him visiting me is something I shouldn't interpret as an attempt of any kind. Maybe this isn't that.</p><p>But even though I didn't want him with me in the ambulance, the hospital, and later at home, he comforted me. Because that's the thing with Will, if he opens up, if he decides to let me in, there's so much love and warmth in his eyes, his words, and his hands. He'll give you all of it.</p><p>Then again, hurt him and he'll shut you off completely. I hadn't seen it before. Not in these proportions.</p><p>But I'm too exhausted. I'm too emotional right now to fight him as my competitor. I couldn't fight his care Thursday and looking back, I'm happy I didn't.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Denial</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Force Majeure</strong>
</p><p>Chapter 15 – Denial</p><p>
  <em>"And you know there's no ignoring her now."</em>
</p><p>- Joshua Radin (In Her Eyes)</p><p>
  <strong>Tuesday, 8:44 AM</strong>
</p><p>I'm not even sure who I visited last night. <em>My competition? My ex-lover? My friend?</em></p><p>I told her to not talk. A part of me wanted to say, "Yes, let's talk now," and walk back in. But I told her we shouldn't. <em>We should avoid being alone together. </em>I've told her before. To protect myself and to protect <em>us</em>. After all, she decided to never talk after the election night. <em>She</em> decided to leave.</p><p>I know, something changed between us. She noticed. So did I. Of course, it affected our relationship when I found her unconscious and stayed by her side in a hospital and then in her home. Because I <em>care </em>for her. She seems to not get that. How I do care for her, but still don't like what she did to me. So, this is for the best. For <em>me. </em>I gave the police my statement, returned the bag, and that's all for now.</p><p>"Morning, Will."</p><p>I look up from my computer. <em>David.</em></p><p>"Morning, David," I respond with a nod. "What can I do for you?"</p><p>"We've got a problem," he says as he walks into my office.</p><p>"What else is new?"</p><p>"Thank you for pointing out that this firm is indeed going under due to your rebellious moves these past few months," he scorns at me.</p><p>
  <em>David being his joyful self.</em>
</p><p>I glance at my watch. "It's a little early for a rant, don't you think?"</p><p>He sighs at me. "I wish, I had <em>time </em>for a rant. No, it's about Dilaney."</p><p><em>Dilaney. </em>The sound of that name fills me with rage.</p><p>"I figured that would wake you up," he grins.</p><p>"What's going on?" I try to sound relaxed and lean back in my chair, pretending to listen like this is about any other client.</p><p>"Well…he says he didn't do it," David sighs and rests both his hands on the chair in front of my desk, waiting for my response.</p><p>"<em>What?"</em></p><p>"I got a call from the station."</p><p>I frown at him.</p><p>"I'm still his lawyer," he continues. "So…," he says and plops down in the chair. "What's the plan here?"</p><p>"He <em>denied </em>it<em>?" </em>I ask in disbelief.</p><p>"Oh, yeah," he snickers.</p><p>"How does that work? I <em>know </em>what he did. I –" I stop my words. Not just because I don't want to get worked up about what he did to Alicia, but because I realize something different.</p><p>"Wait." I get up from my chair. I think best when I stand. "We can't talk about this."</p><p>"You're a witness," he finishes my thoughts.</p><p>I nod thoughtfully. "I gave a statement to the police. So, this…" I gesture between me and him. "…isn't happening. If Dilaney wants to take it to court…"</p><p>"…They'll subpoena you," David finishes my thoughts.</p><p>"We never had this conversation," he agrees, gets up and walks off to my office's door.</p><p>"We're not doing a Chinese wall," I state.</p><p>"Of course not. This firm is barely holding its own."</p><p>"So, you're not going to defend him?" I ask, arching my brow.</p><p>He rolls his eyes at me. "It's not my field of expertise."</p><p>"Being?"</p><p>He throws me an appalled look.</p><p>"I'm kidding," I grin at his response. "<em>Family law</em>, I know, I know."</p><p>He rolls his eyes at me. "He needs another lawyer. I'll make a few calls."</p><p>"David, keep me up to date on this."</p><p>"Will do."</p><p>Just before he leaves, he turns back in the doorway. "Is she doing OK?"</p><p><em>Did David just ask how she's doing?</em> I can't help to cock my head in surprise. "I heard she's doing better," I decide to say as unaffected possible.</p><p>"Good." He nods.</p><p>I glance at my watch. First meeting in five minutes and booked until lunch after that.</p><p><em>How is this even possible? </em>He can't <em>deny</em>, that's insane. He knows he won't win. I rub my eyes and think about what that would imply. <em>Court.</em></p><p>
  <strong>Tuesday, 11:33 AM</strong>
</p><p>My day is hectic, full of meetings, damage control and witness prep. I don't have time to think about the consequences of Dilaney's denial until Kalinda forces me to as she catches up with me in the hallway.</p><p>"You heard?" She asks.</p><p>I stop my steps. "About?"</p><p>"Dilaney."</p><p>"That he denies? Yes, David told me."</p><p>She nods. "Should we contact…anyone?"</p><p>"The police will," I simply answer. I pull out my phone to check my messages.</p><p>"Right, I just thought–"</p><p>"We never contact the victim of one of our own clients." I look up from my phone. "This doesn't change that."</p><p>"Ok," she responds but the unsure look in her eyes tells me she isn't convinced.</p><p>I feel a lot different than what I just told her. I do want to tell her. I want to prepare her for what's coming. She could barely handle the sight of that blouse, but if she needs to face <em>him </em>again.</p><p>"Did you two talk?" Kalinda asks me, clearly sensing my thoughts are with her right now.</p><p>I'm not sure what to answer and stare at my phone. "I brought her the bag," is all I say.</p><p>"How is she?" She tries again. Kalinda seems persevering when it comes to Alicia lately. Protective, almost.</p><p>"I don't know," I mumble. I spot my client at the reception desk. "We'll talk later."</p><p>
  <strong>Tuesday, 2:10 PM</strong>
</p><p>Back from lunch. I drive my car into the parking garage, but have to stop at the gate for another car. The drivers attempts to scan his card, but he can't reach the scanner from his seat. <em>Just get up,</em> I think to myself and impatiently tap the driving wheel.</p><p>I look up while waiting, and my eye falls on a security camera. <em>Cameras.</em></p><p>As soon as I've parked my car, I get out and walk back to where I found Alicia that Thursday evening.</p><p>I stop my steps when I'm confronted with the column where I found her collapsed against. I swallow hard as I spot three tiny, dark red spots that show me the impact of how he hit her. It turns my stomach. The thought of the force he must have used to get her to hit the column like that is unbearable.</p><p>I saw her at her worst. I've never seen her like that. I've seen her upset, or teary eyed, but never that shattered and broken down.</p><p>I look up in search for a camera. There's one, in the corner. I don't know how he attacked her, where he was standing or where he was coming from, but the camera must have caught some part of the attack, if not his face, proving that it was in fact Dilaney.</p><p>As I stand there, trying to recreate the events, and it's then when I realize how little Alicia talked about what happened. When I found her, I asked her if she hit her head. She confirmed with just a nod. Right away, I could tell he did a lot more, but she never explicitly told me what happened. I don't know anything about what happened.</p><p><em>We need the camera footage, </em>I think to myself. I take my phone out of my pocket and call Kalinda.</p><p>
  <strong>Tuesday, 2:20 PM</strong>
</p><p>"What do you need?" Kalinda asks as she walks over to me. I'm still standing near the place of the attack.</p><p>"She must have tried to fight him, right?" I just ask, while looking at the camera.</p><p>She doesn't answer my question and just walks over to the column. She touches the concrete where her face hit the column.</p><p>"Or pushed him, scratched his face?" I continue.</p><p>She sighs and turns around. "Will, I don't know. I wasn't there."</p><p>"No, I know, but where would you look?" I try again.</p><p>"Will…" She pauses and gives me a long look. "She's not our client," she shrugs. "There's nothing you can do anything about this."</p><p>"What about that?" I ask, gesturing at the camera.</p><p>"I doubt it got the actual attack. But they're everywhere. The footage will show who got in and out around that time. They'll figure it out."</p><p>I sigh. "He can't get away with this."</p><p>"Will, trust me. He won't."</p><p>I just nod, not convinced.</p><p>"I should get back to work. I'll see you upstairs."</p><p>"Yeah, thanks," I respond. She walks back to the elevator.</p><p>I still stand there. My hands in my pockets, my lips pursed in a thin line. I look around the grey and cold parking garage. Surrounded by the sounds of cars pulling up and the smell of gasoline, I realize that I can't help myself. I keep denying it, but there's just one truth: I can't stop thinking about her.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Headache</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>force ma·jeure noun \ˌfȯrs-mä-ˈzhər, -mə-\ 1: superior or irresistible force. 2: an event or effect that cannot be reasonably anticipated or controlled. Alicia &amp; Will, seven months after she left L/G: "Dilaney is denying that he intended to assault you." I don't respond. My stomach turns. I open my mouth but no words come out.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Force Majeure</strong>
</p><p>Chapter 16 – Headache</p><p>"<em>Lately you've been searching for a darker place to hide, that's alright."</em></p><p>- Tom Walker (Leave a Light On)</p><p>
  <strong>Tuesday, 08:47</strong>
</p><p>I didn't sleep much last night. Will's unexpected appearance had thrown me off guard. I laid awake most of the night, thinking about what happened, about how to handle my children, when the divorce with Peter will finally be official and about when to get back to work.</p><p>I finally decided to open my laptop this morning, in an attempt to at least catch up on some e-mails. So here I am, sitting in the kitchen, staring at the screen. There's a cup of coffee next to me, but I barely took a sip. Ever since what happened, coffee hasn't tasted the same. 122 unread emails, 34 with "priority."</p><p>I sigh deeply and stare across the kitchen counter. The blue bag Will brought with him is still laying there. I grab it, about throw it in the garbage. Then I notice something rambling. The earrings I was wearing, I realise. A gift from Peter, years ago. Peter… He had left me a voicemail the other night, asking me how I'm doing. He sounded calm, kind. The side I have always loved about him but that had rarely made an appearance over the past couple years. And to be fair, my kind and calm side had also slipped away. At least around him. We had grown apart. We were no longer capable of making each other better people. Better partners, better parents or better professionals… We were over and done. It was Peter who finally decided to say that out loud. That he didn't want to hold on to a past that wouldn't bring any future. We cried together, here in this kitchen. But we both knew it was the right decision. A decision that brought me much needed new energy. But when this all happened, this ridiculous attack, I felt like everything smashed me back to square one.</p><p>i could take out the earrings, save them for later or give them to Grace. But I know their emotional value have been tainted and I will never forget that I had to take them out of this blue bag with my blouse, ripped apart and stained with blood. I decisively throw the whole thing away. I need to move on from all of this.</p><p>I then glance at my phone. A text from Cary. "Hope you're feeling better. Call me when you see this". I frown. What's so urgent? The Johnson case? I did leave work right in the middle of that one. I decide to call Cary back immediately and simultaneously get up to throw out the cold coffee in the sink.</p><p>"Hey Cary, how are you?"</p><p>"Alicia. Glad you called me back. I'm good. How are you feeling?"</p><p>"I'm fine. Was catching up on some e-mails. I didn't know we hired a new intern? And that Johnson case, do you need any help with that?"</p><p>I hear him laugh. "You shouldn't even be working. Please, take your time. We're doing fine over here."</p><p>"So why do you need to call me then," I smirk. I pour myself a glass of water and lean against the sink.</p><p>He sighs. "It's not about work. It's about Dilaney."</p><p>"What about him?" My smile disappears as soon as I hear his name.</p><p>"Robin went in to get an update on the investigation."</p><p>"And?"</p><p>"Dilaney is denying that he intended to assault you."</p><p>I don't respond. My stomach turns. I open my mouth but no words come out.</p><p>"And I don't think he'll go for a plea either. He thinks, or his lawyer thinks, there's no proof that he had the intention to hurt you, or to attack you in the first place."</p><p>My mind goes back to the garage. "Cary. That's ridiculous. He <em>told</em> me he'd been waiting for me."</p><p>"I know," Cary says. "I'm expecting them to take it to trial. They'll argue he attacked you out of emotional impulse. Not intentional."</p><p>Not a trial. <em>Please, God</em>. I close my eyes. "Why," I sigh.</p><p>"He's being delusional, Alicia. Don't worry about it. It's probably just a tactical move from his lawyer to reduce his sentence, but you and I both know… and with his history of abuse...It will be in his best interest to take a plea. If not, the PA will win by a landslide in court in anyways."</p><p>I nod. "I just can't believe he's doing this,". A trial means attention and attention means press. I'm still the governor's wife for the rest of the world. It will all so be just so… screwed up.</p><p>"I'm sorry to break it to you like that. Just wanted make sure you didn't hear last. They'll probably call you soon, if they didn't already."</p><p>I sigh. A million thoughts run through my mind. Who will be defending Dilaney? David? What will a jury think if they see me in the witness stand… That I'm some sort of weak woman who's always the freaking victim of everything that happens to her.</p><p>"Let me just come by this afternoon to talk it over. OK?"</p><p>"That would be nice," I say softly.</p><p>
  <strong>Tuesday, 17:17</strong>
</p><p>Cary came by at three, as promised. We've been talking for over two hours, about work, going to cort and about whether or not I'll file a civil lawsuit. But now I'm starting to lose my focus. The throbbing headache returns and it's hard to hide. The way Cary is looking at me gives a way he notices it too.</p><p>"How are you holding up?"</p><p>I lean my head back in the couch. "Honestly, I don't know," I sigh. "I look hideous, if I leave the home people see me and will think of the craziest stories, then press will start talking and now I'm supposed to go to trial to discuss details I might not even remember."</p><p>"But there are things you <em>do </em>remember, right?"</p><p>"He waited for me near my car. Behind that column, I didn't see him at first. He <em>told</em> me he'd been waiting for me. That I should stay away from his wife. And he held me, really… <em>tight</em>. I couldn't go anywhere. He pushed me to that column. There was a car coming in, right before he hit me. He heard it too, it made him nervous. But then... I must have passed out." I don't look at Cary as I speak.</p><p>"You remember anything after that?"</p><p>I do. The woman, touching me, talking to me. Will's face, his hand on me, trying to keep me wake. The ambulance personnel calming me down and lifting me into the ambulance…</p><p>"That woman talking to me. That's the first thing," I answer dryly.</p><p>"Did she see him leave?"</p><p>I shrug. "I don't know." I close my eyes. "I don't remember what she said exactly. She didn't know what to do, she just disappeared to get help," I mumble.</p><p>"Will," Cary adds.</p><p>I nod again.</p><p>"He talked to the police right?"</p><p>"Yes. In the hospital."</p><p>"Did he see anyone?"</p><p>"I don't think so. He didn't mention anything."</p><p>"OK."</p><p>I open my eyes again and sigh deeply. "I'm sorry Cary. I know I'm not of much use."</p><p>"Just trying to help where I can," he responds. His eyes are soft.</p><p>"Thank you," I smile back. "We've become good friends, haven't we?"</p><p>"We have," he smiles. "We should go for a drink once you're up for it."</p><p>"We sure will."</p><p>He gets up, so do I. We walk back to the door. "One more thing, do you know who will be defending Dilaney?"</p><p>"Not sure. Lockhart/Gardner dropped him as a client. I mean, physically attacking a colleague in their building… And Will got involved as a witness. It would get messy. We would do the same."</p><p>I nod. "That's good."</p><p>"It is. Don't worry too much, ok? Rest. We'll talk later this week."</p><p>"Thanks Cary."</p><p>I close the door behind him and sink back down on the couch. The memory of the attack continues to spin through my head, making me feel dizzy all over again. The smell of Dilaney's breath. The sound of my head hitting the column. The sirens. Will telling me to stay with him, to stay awake, to squeeze his hand. With every thought and every memory, the headache only gets worse and I hate it. I want to move on from this. But now, with Dilaney denying, I know I can't. Not yet.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Doctor's Orders</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Summary: force ma·jeure noun \ˌfȯrs-mä-ˈzhər, -mə-\ 1: superior or irresistible force. 2: an event or effect that cannot be reasonably anticipated or controlled. Alicia &amp; Will, seven months after she left L/G: Will breathes deeply and looks away for a second before his eyes find mine again. "Do you even know that it scared the hell out of me to see you like that? I don't want to see you hurt. How do you get that?"</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <strong>Force Majeure</strong>
</p><p>Chapter 17 – Doctor's Orders</p><p>"<em>So do your worst to me. Test my loyalty. I will pass with distinction of first degree"</em></p><p>- Bruno Major (Just the Same)</p><p>
  <strong>Three weeks later</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Wednesday, 13:55</strong>
</p><p>I study my reflection in the mirror as I stand in the ladies' room of the court house. It's almost like nothing ever happened. The streaks on my wrist disappeared first. The black eye faded next. The bruise in my neck is gone. My jaw is no longer swollen. A faint bruise down my jawline remains, but only the trained eye will see the difference. I look like my old self for the first time in weeks. Unfortunately, I do not <em>feel</em> like my old self just yet. I'm dealing with sleepless nights, headaches and this feeling of continuous anxiety that has taken over my whole body. Also, I haven't set foot in a parking garage since that very day.</p><p>I think I'm handling it quite well, all things considered. I just want to get back into a routine, back to my job and most of all, back to my life. I'm done with wallowing in self-pity.</p><p>Confidently, I head out the ladies' room and make my way to the courtroom where Cary will be waiting for me. As I walk down the hallway, the familiar sound of my heels echoing on the stone floor soothes me. It feels good to be back, as if it's any other workday.</p><p>But it isn't.</p><p>Because I take a seat in the second row instead of the first. As I do, Cary turns around to quickly say <em>hi</em> and then returns to our client. I just sit there, to do nothing else but listen. It feels somewhat ridiculous; being in court and not practicing. But I'm following doctor's orders: first try following a full trial session before even think about handling a case yourself.</p><p>
  <strong>Wednesday, 14:57</strong>
</p><p>"Adjourned."</p><p><em>O my God, finally. </em>I let out a sigh of relief. I don't know how many exhausting trials I have worked through in my career, but nothing beats listening through one, in an attempt to look engaged and focused whilst battling a pounding headache.</p><p>"You OK?" Cary asks as he turns around towards me.</p><p>"Perfect," I respond. Not entirely true, but good enough. "So <em>boring</em>," I then mouth at him.</p><p>He grins, then turns back to our client.</p><p>I decide to get up and leave as quickly as I can. I don't feel like going through the <em>'how are you'</em> and '<em>I heard'</em> conversations once again. I'm running out of repertoire. The way people have been looking at me is painfully similar to when everyone knew that Peter had cheated on me with hookers. But I've learned to ignore the stares.</p><p>The hallway is full of people talking, laughing and whispering, and all of it echoes as much as my heels do, only further aggravating my headache. I can't wait to get home. Fingers crossed I don't run into anyone. But then, when I cross into the main hallway, I spot him.</p><p>Always him.</p><p>Will.</p><p>It's been months since I've seen him like that. Relaxed, talking to his client, working, and clearly not aware of my presence. As if I spot him like an animal in his natural habitat. It brings a faint smile to my face. This is how he's always been and how I've always liked him. But I no longer get to see him like this. I'm only allowed to see his cold, harsh and distant side. And that's probably the side I'll see if I'd approach him right now. Do I even want to approach him? I'm not sure. But there are many reasons to at least try. To thank him, to ask him how he's doing, to talk, to…</p><p>But I'm not sure where we stand. Then again, I don't think I ever knew where we stood. The only thing I know is that, despite our stubborn <em>'bad timing'</em> mantra, we do always bump in to each other. As if we don't know how to, or simply can't, avoid each other. We've tried many times. But I know that no matter how large the crowd or how big the space, I'll always see him first.</p><p>Suddenly he looks into my direction. A bit startled, I raise my hand in an awkward attempt to say 'hi'. I don't know what else to do. He does the same and, to my surprise, gestures he's coming my way.</p><p>I just stand there, in the middle of the hallway, not sure what will happen next.</p><p>"Back to work?" He asks with a gentle smile as he walks over to me.</p><p>"Kind of," I smile.</p><p>"It's been what, a month?"</p><p>"Three weeks and two days," I nod.</p><p>He grins. "Counting the days huh?"</p><p>"Yep."</p><p>"You wanted to see me?"</p><p>"Yes. I… Can we go outside for a second?"</p><p>"Sure," he shrugs.</p><p>"Let's do that," I say decisively.</p><p>We move through the crowd. I'm a bit overwhelmed that we're talking to each other and that it doesn't seem as weird as it normally does, but I also don't really know what is happening or what I want to talk about.</p><p>Once outside, we head down the stairs and sooner than I'd hoped we're standing in front of each other on the sidewalk.</p><p>"Tell me," he says.</p><p>"I know you don't want to talk," I start. "But too much has happened," I carefully continue. "So I think we <em>should… </em>talk. If not now, then at least sometime soon." There, I said it.</p><p>He sighs and stares into the distance for a moment. Then he looks back at me. "There's not much to talk about," he responds dryly.</p><p>"There is," I say. My voice is soft but determined.</p><p>Another sigh.</p><p>"Will, come on, there is." Stronger this time. "Look, I know it's my fault that we didn't talk…before. When you wanted to talk, I said I couldn't. We should have, I realize that."</p><p>"You couldn't talk because you were in the process of stealing my clients."</p><p>"I <em>know</em> that." I try my hardest not to roll my eyes. <em>Here we go again. </em>Will we ever get passed this?</p><p>He shrugs indifferently. "We're competitors now."</p><p>"Is that all?" I carefully ask.</p><p>"At this point in time… I think so, yes."</p><p>Now I'm the one to sigh deeply. "You're not going to let me do it, are you?"</p><p>"Do what?"</p><p>"Actually <em>thank</em> you."</p><p>"You don't need to thank me."</p><p>"I do. And I <em>want</em> to. My God Will, you're the one who got me out of that parking garage. Who brought me <em>home</em>." I sound more vulnerable than I intended to.</p><p>The look on his face softens as I say that. He frowns.</p><p>"If we're really only competitors, why would you have done all that?" I ask. "If you hate me this much, why did you even care?"</p><p>The soft look in his eyes immediately disappears. "Are you saying that I had a <em>choice</em>?" I open my mouth, but he doesn't let me speak.</p><p>"She's badly hurt, but you know what, I don't care, I'll just <em>leave</em> her there?" He raises his voice. His tone is more upset than I expected. "How is that even a scenario? You're acting like I'm what, <em>inhumane</em>? You were barely <em>conscious</em> Alicia."</p><p>I'm taken aback by his strong response.</p><p>He sighs deeply, looks down for a second and then looks me in the eyes again. "Do you even know that it scared the hell out of me to see you like that? I don't want to see you <em>hurt</em>. How do you get that?"</p><p>That's not what I meant. "No, I…"</p><p>"But it doesn't mean that I just forget what you did," he continues. "It's two different things. You're oversimplifying it and you know you are."</p><p>"I'm sorry… it was an unfair question."</p><p>"We were avoiding each other for a reason. And now we're just…" He swallows, his lips pursed. "…messed up." His voice cracks at those last words.</p><p>"Yeah…" I nod slowly. A silence falls.</p><p>"Beyond repair?" I decide to ask.</p><p>He shakes his head. "Honestly… I don't know how to answer that."</p><p>Another silence. I stare at the ground, biting my bottom lip, unsure of what to say next.</p><p>"Look," he sighs. It makes me look back up at him. Our eyes lock. "I'm just glad to see you back on your feet," he tells me. His eyes are soft again.</p><p>"Yeah… me too."</p><p>We're interrupted by his phone ringing. He takes it out his pocket. "I'm sorry," he says as he silences it. "I really need to get back to the office."</p><p>"Sure, go," I nod. "And if you do change your mind, about talking… Let me know?"</p><p>"OK."</p><p>"OK," I repeat.</p><p>"Take care." And with that, he turns around.</p><p>I just stand there as he walks away from me. I let out a shivery breath and stare at him as he moves further away from me. What have we become? Why are we always this… inept with each other? Maybe I should have just kept walking, because I don't even know if this conversation made me feel better or worse. I open my bag to get my phone and call myself a cab.</p><p>"Alicia?"</p><p>I look up at the sound of his voice saying my name. He's already a couple feet away from me but apparently turned around.</p><p>"Don't rush healing from a concussion like that. Us two… we're bad enough as it is. I don't want to see <em>you, </em>you know…<em> beyond repair," </em>he grins at the last words.</p><p>"Don't worry," I smile. "I promise I won't."</p><p>He nods, with that mischievous look on his face that I've come to know so well, but haven't seen in a very, very long time. Immediately I feel better.</p><p>Then he turns back around and walks away.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(Preview for next chapter: Flashback to Will waiting for the ambulance to arrive, set immediately after chapter 5.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Ambulance (flashback)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>force ma·jeure noun \ˌfȯrs-mä-ˈzhər, -mə-\ 1: superior or irresistible force. 2: an event or effect that cannot be reasonably anticipated or controlled. Alicia &amp; Will, seven months after she left L/G: Her answers are short and clear. Well-articulated as always, in control of every single word she's saying. Still, I sense a tremble in her voice. Ever so soft and barely noticeable for the untrained ear. But I'm not untrained. I know her, I know her better than she wants to perhaps. I know she's still hurting, and I hate that I'm just sitting here and can't do anything.</p>
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  <strong>Force Majeure</strong>
</p><p>Chapter 18 – Ambulance<br/>(Flashback to 23 days ago)</p><p>"<em>They say it's matter of time, a thousand days and the sun won't shine, before I come back to you."<br/></em><em>- Tom Walker (Go Solo) </em></p><p>
  <strong><br/>Thursday, 6:03 PM</strong>
</p><p>"Come on, stay with me," I repeat as her eyes close.</p><p>"I'm sorry, I can't," she moans as she slips further towards the ground. Should I help her lay down? Would that be dangerous? Should I wait for the paramedics? I don't know what to do.</p><p>"Ok, then keep squeezing my hand," I improvise. "Like this." I take her hand in mine and squeeze her ha a couple times.</p><p>She squeezes back.</p><p>"Good," I encourage her. "I need you to stay awake. Are you holding on?"</p><p>"Mm," is all I get.</p><p>I glance at my watch. It feels like an eternity since that woman called the ambulance. I didn't check the time when she did. Should I call again? Do they even know we're in a parking garage?</p><p>I squeeze her hand. She squeezes mine. I squeeze back. "You're doing good," I tell her.</p><p>I hear sirens. But they fade as quickly as they started. Not for us.</p><p>"I need to lay down," she grunts. "Too dizzy." Eyes still closed.</p><p>I gently hold her shoulders. "I know, you'll get to lay down in a second. I don't want to move you right now."</p><p>She just moans in response and lets her head hang down. I'm getting more concerned by the second. What is she becomes unconscious? What do I do? I've attended countless mandatory first aid courses over the years, CPR training on plastic dolls, recovery position… <em>Recovery position. </em>That's it. But should I do that now? I'm not sure. I'm beating myself up for always scrolling through e-mails on my phone and not paying attention during those classes.</p><p>She squeezes, weaker this time. I squeeze back.</p><p>"Do you still remember what happened?" I ask, in an attempt to keep her with me.</p><p>She nods.</p><p>"What day is it?"</p><p>"Thursday," she mutters.</p><p>"Good. My name?"</p><p>A faint smile. Good enough.</p><p>Again, sirens. Closer this time. And closer. Closer. <em>Thank God.</em> I hear them driving down the parking garage.</p><p>"They're here," I say relieved.</p><p>
  <strong><br/>Thursday, 6:18 PM</strong>
</p><p>I briefly talked to one of the paramedics, and now I'm not of much use. I just stand there, observing the scene as they slowly lower Alicia down to the ground and onto the gurney. I can't believe this is really happening. What a day. And seeing Alicia like this… A rush of emotions washes over me as I see them strap her in. Memories of years ago flash through my mind. Of holding her, touching her, laughing with her… Not once it crossed my mind that I'd ever see her like this. I swallow hard and blink away the feeling of hot tears stinging behind my eyes. God, I'm a mess.</p><p>"Is this yours?" One of the paramedics walks over to me with my jacket.</p><p>"Yeah, yes… thank you," I stutter.</p><p>"You're OK sir?" I nod. "Do you need to sit down for a second?"</p><p>"No…no. I'm fine, really."</p><p>"You're her friend? Colleague?"</p><p>"Yes, yes we know each other," I decide to respond.</p><p>"Well, you did good. She's in good hands now. We'll get her in the ambulance in a sec."</p><p>"She going to be OK?" I ask as I closely watch the other paramedic talking to her.</p><p>"She's responsive, but she took a big hit. They'll be able to tell you more in the hospital..."</p><p>"Ok…"</p><p>"…We're heading to County General," he continues. "The police might ask you for a statement."</p><p>"All right, yeah…" I'm still staring at the gurney.</p><p>"Sir," he places his hand on my shoulder and manages to make eye contact with me. I realize I haven't even looked in the eyes of this guy trying to talk to me. "It's a lot to see someone like this. Take a minute before you get behind the wheel. You did everything you could, she's in good hands now. But promise me, <em>calm down</em>before you start driving."</p><p>"I will," I answer.</p><p>"Ok, good. I'm gonna join my colleague and we'll see you at the hospital."</p><p>I just nod.</p><p>I watch how they gently push her towards the ambulance. They pass by me, and I briefly make eye contact with Alicia. Her head is fixated in the neck brace, but she briefly turns her eyes towards me before she closes them again. Empty, tired and defeated eyes that stare straight through me. It gives me goosebumps.</p><p>They push her in and close the doors behind her. I just stand there, nailed to the ground. Within no time, the sirens are turned back on and I watch them drive out of the parking garage.</p><p>It's only then that I realize how out of breath I am. My heart is beating against my chest, sweat is dripping down my forehead and I feel my hands are trembling.</p><p>This scared the hell out of me.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! Please leave a review and let me know if you're still following along</p><p>(Preview for next chapter: Alicia's trial has started and after much thought, Will has decided to attend and show her some support)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Court</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Force Majeure</strong>
</p><p>Chapter 19 – Court</p><p>"<em>Without a heart you'll finish last"<br/></em>- Racoon (Shoes of Lightning)</p><p>
  <strong>Five weeks later</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Tuesday, 11:03 AM</strong>
</p><p>Quietly, I slip through the door of the courtroom and sit down on the first available seat in the back of the room. I quickly silence my phone and take in my surroundings. The room is relatively empty. I spot Alicia on the first row on the right. Owen and her mother right behind her. I check the left to see if I recognize Dilaney's lawyer. I don't. Bad sign for Dilaney, good thing for Alicia. And judge Abernathy, that's excellent.</p><p>The last-minute decision was made behind my desk this morning. Alicia's court date had been marked as tentativein my calendar for weeks, but I wasn't sure whether I really wanted, dared, and most of all <em>should</em>, attend her hearing. Because I do get the feeling that I'm invading her privacy, listening in on her trial like this. But I decided to go. To show my support. Show her that I actually care about how this all ends, because I do. And not just about all this. I care about <em>her. </em>I always have.</p><p>I don't like to admit it, but the last couple months have been difficult for me. The firm is still in the midst of the aftermath of the loss of our top three clients, and so am I. I've been in competition mode ever since. Even for someone who thrives on competitiveness it's hard to keep it up 24/7. But I had to. It was the only viable response to the whole situation. And to her. Her and her betrayal.</p><p>As soon as Alicia had broken the news to me, I had known that I needed to rip her out of my life completely. And I had been quite successful in doing so. Up until that night of the class-action. No matter how complex and twisted our relationship had been throughout the years, it had never felt <em>wrong </em>to be with her. Even in those moments where we weren't supposed to kiss, touch or feel each other, it <em>still</em> felt good. Sure, it felt like a mistake afterwards. But never in the moment.</p><p>Because our physical attraction had always been, and most likely will always be, undeniable. We connect. There's an electricity between us. It didn't always ignite. It could be dormant for months, <em>hell, </em>years. But it was there. And it was there that evening. But when my lips touched hers and as my hands slid down her thighs, I realized I was unable to connect with her. As if we were suffering a power outage. I wanted to get it over it, I really did.</p><p>I couldn't.</p><p>We let go, she left, and I just sat there behind my desk, devastated. We were over and done. I was <em>literally</em> unable to be with her. It hurt. But it also made things surprisingly simple, or so I thought.</p><p>Without ever talking about it, we suddenly had this non-verbal agreement to avoid each other, and we had both abided by the rules. Up until five weeks ago, simply because those rules and principles no longer mattered when I found her collapsed in that parking garage. Unforeseeable circumstances.</p><p>I realize the hearing started and I'm barely paying attention. But then I hear ASA Brody's voice calling Alicia to the stand. I see her get up, calm and collected. As she sits in the witness stand, I notice how perfect she looks. Confident and strong. Her bruises have healed completely. She looks healthy, less exhausted than a couple weeks ago when I talked to her at the court house.</p><p>She confidently looks around the room. As she does, she sees me. Our eyes lock. She doesn't react to seeing me here, doesn't show a single emotion. I feel equally relieved as awkward that she now knows I'm here. I just give her a brief smile, but when I do, she's already looking at Brody and no longer at me.</p><p>Her answers are short and clear. Well-articulated as always, in control of every single word she's saying. Still, I sense a tremble in her voice. Ever so soft and barely noticeable for the untrained ear. But I'm not untrained. I know her, I know her better than she wants to perhaps. I know she's still hurting, and I hate that I'm just sitting here and can't do anything.</p><p>"What were mr. Dilaney's first words when you entered that parking garage?"</p><p>"He said he had been waiting for me," she responds calmly.</p><p>"What happened next?"</p><p>"I told him we shouldn't be talking there. He told me he wasn't here to talk. Then he started to close me in."</p><p>My stomach turns.</p><p>"Can you explain in what way he closed you in?"</p><p>"He was between me and my car. He came closer, I took a step back but I couldn't go any further. There was a column there. He pushed me against it. My phone dropped out of my hand."</p><p>I see her breathe in deeply. I clench my fist. I still can't believe this guy did this to her.</p><p>"Were you able to get away at this point?"</p><p>"No. He grabbed my wrists and… He put his knee up in between my legs." Her voice cracks. She clears her throat before he continues. "I couldn't go anywhere."</p><p>"Did the defendant tell you anything else?"</p><p>She nods. "He told me to talk his wife out of the divorce. I told him I couldn't do that. That's when he hit my head against the column."</p><p>"Did you pass out after that?"</p><p>"No. I remember him placing his hand over my mouth and pressing on my chest to keep me there. Then he hit my jaw. After that… I'm afraid I don't remember anything."</p><p>She said all that showing barely any emotion, but as soon as she finished the last words she stares to the ground and bites her lip. <em>You're brave, </em>is what I want to tell her.</p><p>I've come to realize that I can't not care about her. It's not a new realization. I've known for years. But the last couple months I've noticed that it's becoming unbearable to keep her at a distance. I think I might be done with fighting my feelings for her, even though I'm still mad at her for how she left the firm and betrayed my trust. But I didn't try to get in touch with her over the past couple of weeks. She needed time to process everything that happened with her own family. I didn't want to be a part of that. And I couldn't be, I needed some time as well. I needed to process what had happened too. Me finding her like that, sitting next to her in the hospital and being back in her apartment. <em>Caring </em>for her. <em>Worrying </em>about her. Watching her sleep, holding her…</p><p>It was the most vulnerable I've ever seen her. The most we ever cared for each other. We never did that. Our relationship, or whatever we used to have, never went that far. There was always some sort of boundary we couldn't cross. I never really understood where the boundary was exactly, but Alicia seemed to have a razor-sharp line in her mind. If we were about to cross that line, she immediately pulled back all the troops. She'd throw herself back into a world I could never be a part of. Reason always got the best of her. I never liked how Alicia and I handled things to begin with. Or better said, <em>her </em>stubborn and rational way of handling <em>us </em>that, in my view, ruined opportunities and blocked so many scenarios. What could have been. We <em>should </em>have cared more for each other. But I always understood. My understanding for her and her family situation had been endless.</p><p>My train of thoughts stop immediately as I see Dilaney take the stand. <em>You fucker, </em>is all I can think. Who are you to think that you can do this? Not just assaulting her, beating her up, but then simply denying you had the intention. <em>Come on. </em>But then I look at my phone. Four missed calls. <em>Shit. </em>I need to leave. I get up as quietly as I had entered the room two hours earlier and head back to the office.</p><p>As I walk to my car I send her a text message. She won't read it before she's out of court, but that's okay:</p><p>
  <em>You're strong. And you'll win this. I hope you know that.</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p><p>(Preview for next chapter: Will finally seems open to talking. Alicia and Will at a bar, having a good and much needed conversation)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Quantum Leap</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>force ma·jeure noun \ˌfȯrs-mä-ˈzhər, -mə-\ 1: superior or irresistible force. 2: an event or effect that cannot be reasonably anticipated or controlled. Alicia &amp; Will, seven months after she left L/G: I get up from the couch and slide my finger over the screen to pick up. "Will?" "Hi, Alicia." It really is his voice. "I thought… it'd be quicker to call. Sorry to hear about the cancellation." "Yeah, well it happens," is all I manage to reply, still a bit unsure of what's going on. I walk over to the kitchen and lean against the counter. "Thank you, for being there the other day. I didn't expect you to."</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Force Majeure</strong>
</p><p>Chapter 20 – Quantum Leap</p><p><em>Light up, light up, light up, light up<br/></em>- Janne Schra (Light Up)</p><p>
  <strong>Two weeks later</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Thursday 07:53 PM</strong>
</p><p>"So wait, why did they change the final court date?" Owen asks as he pours us both a glass of red wine in the kitchen.</p><p>"I don't know, scheduling issues," I sigh as I kick off my heels and sit down on the couch. "Happens all the time."</p><p>"I thought they only changed court dates of cases that don't really matter," he responds as he sits down next to me and hands me my glass. "But you, a sophisticated lawyer, shouldn't you have ways<em>, </em>your contacts?"</p><p>I grin. "I wish. And I don't know about sophisticated. The elevator of our office actually broke down this morning."</p><p>"But <em>you </em>are sophisticated," he replies and holds up his glass to mine. "Cheers."</p><p>"Cheers."</p><p>"Did you get a new date?"</p><p>"Yeah, next Wednesday."</p><p>"Great. I'll be there."</p><p>I turn my head towards him. "You really don't have to."</p><p>"Don't be ridiculous. I'll be there, just like last time. To support you. And to quietly whisper death threats to that horrible, horrible man."</p><p>I grin. "How lovely."</p><p>"Well, someone has to do it."</p><p>"Oh, believe me, I do it too. I'm just… I want to get this over with. This just needs to go away, you know?"</p><p>Owen nods. "It will, soon."</p><p>"I know," I sigh and look at him.</p><p>"You know, I do think you're very brave."</p><p>"Thank you," I say softly. "But I'm still too afraid to go into a parking garage on my one."</p><p>"Those things take time."</p><p>"Yeah…"</p><p>We're quiet, drinking our wine. I then notice Owen is staring at me. It's taking a little too long. "<em>What</em>?" I ask.</p><p>"You look good! You look really, really good. Why are you sitting here, drinking wine with your gay brother? You should be out in the world, seducing a man who makes loves to you and protects you from parking garages."</p><p>"Any suggestions?" I respond dryly and lean over to refill our glasses.</p><p>"Let me think," he begins. "I know it's a stretch but…How about this guy… you've loved for more than twenty years, had an <em>affair </em>with that brought you <em>actual </em>happiness and joy, who took care of you for basically 24 hours <em>and </em>showed up at your trial. I mean, I know it's a <em>crazy </em>thought but you know, it's something to consider."</p><p>He makes me laugh. "When you put it like that, it only makes sense."</p><p>"That's because it <em>makes</em> perfect sense. And might I add, it has made sense for the past decade."</p><p>"You're forgetting the part where he no longer wants to talk me, I betrayed his trust and I no longer feel the connection we used to have."</p><p>He sighs and thinks for a minute. "Then why did he come to court?"</p><p>"Now <em>that's</em> a good question," I reply and take another sip from my wine.</p><p>"Because he cares. He just doesn't know how to express it, because he's still hurting, but he <em>does</em> care and he wants you to know that he does."</p><p>"Maybe…" I nod pensively..</p><p>"You did tell him that there's no hearing tomorrow, right?"</p><p>I shake my head. "Nope."</p><p>"Alicia! You should."</p><p>"Look, hear me out. I don't know if he'll come. To be fair, I don't even know if I want him to."</p><p>"Of course you <em>want</em> him to."</p><p>I shake my head. "But texting him will be like <em>asking </em>him to come."</p><p>"Well, would that be a bad thing?"</p><p>I sigh. "Maybe. I already asked him to talk, that didn't do much."</p><p>"He came to court."</p><p>"Yeah…" I mumble. "And then he texted me afterwards."</p><p>"Wait <em>what</em>?! You didn't tell me that!"</p><p>I laugh and pick my phone up from the coffee table. "Let me see… He said… <em>you're strong. And you'll win this. I hope you know that." </em>I put my phone back and look at Owen.</p><p>His eyes grow wide. "You cannot <em>withhold</em> information from me like that! See! He's <em>supporting</em> you. So he'll show up tomorrow if you don't let him know. Just text him."</p><p>I sigh deeply as I stare at the text. "OK, maybe you're right," I mutter.</p><p>"Of course I am. You two… You guys <em>connect. </em>Whether you like it or not. Whether <em>he </em>likes it or not. I can't even count the amount of times we've had this talk." He gets up from the couch. "Go, text him. I need to go the bathroom. When I come back, you've texted him."</p><p>I shake my head and take a deep breath as I scroll back to my conversation with Will. Owen's right. Owen has always been right. So I decide to just go for it and send a text to Will:</p><p>
  <em>Hi, just wanted to let you know tomorrow's hearing got postponed, A.</em>
</p><p>I press send and throw my phone away to the other side of the couch. Did it. Now I need more wine. As I reach for the bottle for the second time this evening, I see a notification pop up on my phone screen.</p><p>Wait. He already replied? I glance at my screen.</p><p>
  <em>Sorry to hear that. Have a new date yet? </em>
</p><p>While I'm still taking in the fact that Will instantly texted me back, Owen comes back from the bathroom. "And?!"</p><p>"He responded," I say stunned, still staring at the notification. "Asked if I got a new date."</p><p>"SEE!" He says triumphantly. "He's intending to come. And therefore he's now asking for the date. Which you will now tell him."</p><p>I grin at Owen's excitement.</p><p>
  <em>Next Wednesday.</em>
</p><p>That's all I write, with Owen looking over my shoulders.</p><p>I press send again.</p><p>Owen's looks up to me. "Well, you certainly didn't get mom's creative genes," he mutters and sits back down next to me.</p><p>"Shut up," I laugh.</p><p>I sit there with my phone in my hand, not sure what to expect. And then it's starts ringing.</p><p>"O my God," I gasp and look up at Owen. "That's Will."</p><p>"Go, go, pick up!" He hisses at me.</p><p>I get up from the couch and slide my finger over the screen to pick up. "Will?"</p><p>"Hi, Alicia." It really is his voice. "I thought… it'd be quicker to call. Sorry to hear about the cancellation."</p><p>"Yeah, well it happens," is all I manage to reply, still a bit unsure of what's going on. I walk over to the kitchen and lean against the counter. "Thank you. For being there the other day. I didn't expect you to."</p><p>"I know."</p><p>He falls silent for a second.</p><p>"It felt right," he adds.</p><p>My heart warms as he says that. He sounds genuine, soft. It brings a smile to my face.</p><p>"Look," he quickly continues. "I called you because it seems like we're both free tomorrow afternoon now that the hearing is cancelled. I thought… it might be a good moment to talk, if it suits you. Go for a coffee?"</p><p>My mouth drops open in surprise. Did he just propose to talk? "Sure, yeah, sure, let's do that. I'm free. That works." I roll my eyes at my own chaotic response.</p><p>I think I hear him grin. "All right then. The usual place at three?"</p><p>"The usual place at three," I confirm, completely taken aback by this straight forward initiative.</p><p>"Great. Then… We'll see each other tomorrow."</p><p>"We will. Thank you, for calling… Have a good night."</p><p>Does the conversation end here? I'm not sure.</p><p>"Yeah, you too," he responds, and then the line disconnects.</p><p>So the conversation did end. I shake my head in disbelief and bite my lip as I repeat the conversation in my mind. <em>The usual place.</em> I don't remember how often we would say or text that to each other. Our hotel. Our bar. Our restaurant. I don't think I've even set foot in that place since we ended… whatever is was that we've ended.</p><p>"AND?!" I hear Owen shout from the living room.</p><p>I don't say a word. I just walk back to the living room, pick up my glass from the coffee table and chug down all that's left in the glass.</p><p>He nods approvingly. "Good girl," he laughs. "Now we're talking!"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Preview for next chapter: Alicia and Will at their usual place, having a good and much needed conversation</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Collateral Damage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>force ma·jeure noun \ˌfȯrs-mä-ˈzhər, -mə-\ 1: superior or irresistible force. 2: an event or effect that cannot be reasonably anticipated or controlled. Alicia &amp; Will, seven months after she left L/G: "Maybe you were holding on to a fantasy." It's out before I realize. It hurts him, I can tell. His jaw tightens. "Or you never had the guts to pursue that very same fantasy," he answers. I'm taken aback by that.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Force Majeure</strong>
</p><p>Chapter 21 - Collateral Damage</p><p><em>"I almost wish I hadn't gone down the rabbit-hole-and yet-and yet-..."<br/></em><em>–</em> Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland</p><p>
  <strong>Friday, 2:53 PM</strong>
</p><p>I briefly check my reflection in the front rear mirror as I wait for the last traffic lights before I reach the hotel. The hotel where we've met a dozen times, that one year when it was equally as exciting as exasperating to find moments the rest of the world didn't get to see. It was good, what we had. But life happened, as it often does, and I didn't know how to stop it. Or I didn't dare to. Who knows. He might want me to answer that question today, or maybe not all.</p><p>I don't know what to expect from this conversation. I simply want to move on from where we are now. It could be too much to ask, but something tells me he wants the same. And perhaps that's all there is to it; clear the air. And then, life goes on again. As it did when our affair started, when I cut it off, when we kissed, when we kissed <em>again. </em>There's no stopping life. But lately, I had been able to take control of my own. Leaving Lockhart/Gardner, starting my own firm, filing for a divorce… And then, crazy Dilaney got to me. Life won, again. But here I am now, and I'm okay. I'm doing okay. I look back in the mirror. I <em>am </em>doing OK.</p><p>I arrive at the hotel and suddenly realise I need to drive down the garage to park my car. Immediately my grip on the wheel tightens. I don't want to, but I should. And I just told myself I was doing okay, so why not just get in there. It's not Dilaney will be there waiting for me, right? Decisively, I turn the wheel to the left, heading towards the entrance of the garage. But then, within the same split second, I turn it fully back to the right and head for the street once more.</p><p>No.</p><p>I can't do it.</p><p>I roll my eyes in frustration.</p><p>
  <strong>Friday, 3:06 PM</strong>
</p><p>I was able to park my car a block away from the hotel, making me late a good five minutes. Will was waiting for me at a table in the corner, staring at his phone until I walked up to him and said his name. Now the waiter is taking our orders. We haven't said much yet.</p><p>"A double espresso for me and… a mint tea?" Will's eyes quickly look at mine for confirmation.</p><p>I nod, amused because he remembered what to order.</p><p>"I could use something stronger though," I joke as the waiter walks off.</p><p>His mouth twitches into some sort of smile. "Go ahead."</p><p>"You wouldn't join me, would you?"</p><p>He shakes his head. "I have a meeting at five."</p><p>"Very sensible," I nod. I can't help to feel some sort of disappointment knowing he has a meeting after this.</p><p>He clicks his tongue. "Always."</p><p>We fall silent for a moment, and I immediately realise it's not one of the comfortable silences we used to share together. To the contrary, the conversation so far has not been going very smoothly.</p><p>"How have you been?" Will then asks.</p><p>"Good," I reply. It's the easy response.</p><p>"Really?" He asks. He <em>knows </em>it's the easy answer. But I don't want to go into that now.</p><p>"Yes," I nod. "Waiting for the trial to end," I sigh. "Feels like everything has been put on hold and I… need it to continue."</p><p>"It's been a long time," He nods.</p><p>"Two and half months."</p><p>"Does it feel like that?"</p><p>I sigh. "I don't know. Time stood still and moved right by me at the same time."</p><p>He nods in response, and another silence falls. I only now register the classical music that's playing. It's a bit dark and depressing, not lightening up the mood in the slightest. I realise this isn't going to be an easy conversation in any way. I know the ball is in my court to address the elephant in the room. After all, I was the one who asked for this conversation in the first place.</p><p>The waiter returns and places our drinks in front of us.</p><p>"So," I just say, stirring my tea. Let's get this show on the road. "What changed?"</p><p>"For us sitting here?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"I figured you and I at least deserve a conversation. Simple as that," he responds matter-of-factly.</p><p>"Well, I'm glad," I reply softly, trying to catch his eyes in mine for a second. But he just drinks his coffee. "You know it's almost been a year since I left?" I just decide to ask, in a second attempt to keep us talking.</p><p>"Wow. And still, you haven't filed for bankruptcy?" His tone is both dead serious and provoking.</p><p>I just smile and take a sip from my tea. "And still… we <em>haven't</em> filed for bankruptcy."</p><p>"Well, then Diane needs to pay up."</p><p>I raise my brows, asking for an explanation.</p><p>"She thought you wouldn't last a year."</p><p>"And what did you think?"</p><p>He shrugs. "I know how you are when you set your mind to something."</p><p>I nod in response. "Should I take that as a compliment?" I look at him.</p><p>"I never underestimated you," he says, and his eyes stare straight into mine for just a second. <em>I know, </em>I think. No turning back know, I realise. This is the conversation I asked for. And it may be the only chance I get to explain myself.</p><p>"Look, the way I left…I know it wasn't right."</p><p>He gives me nothing but a straight stare and pursed lips.</p><p>"I've had time to reflect on my decisions," I continue. "The way I handled things… It wasn't like me."</p><p>That gets his attention. He cocks his head and looks up to me. "Why not?"</p><p>I shake my head. "I don't usually go off the beaten track."</p><p>"Still, you did." He takes a sip from his espresso. "Tell me why." Again, his eyes briefly shoot in mine as he asks that, then turn away.</p><p>I sigh. I never really thought through the answer. I probably should have.</p><p>"I felt. stuck. As if I had been going around in circles. Then this opportunity to break away from it all was presented to me. And it seemed like… a smart move."</p><p>He nods unconvinced.</p><p>"But how things went down…," I quickly add. "…I was never a hundred percent comfortable with how it happened. All of it had already been set in motion, weeks before I was even <em>asked </em>to join and-"</p><p>"<em>Don't,</em>" he cuts me off with a cold voice.</p><p>I look up to him in surprise.</p><p>"Don't pretend like it <em>happened</em> to you. Like you had no control over it. You <em>chose </em>to join."</p><p>"I know that," I respond immediately. "I just… I realise it was messy."</p><p>"Of course it was. I know how it works. It's never a clean cut."</p><p>"Clearly," I reply, and my mind goes back to him shouting at me in my office.</p><p>"Do you regret it?"</p><p>I look up to him. "No."</p><p>"Good."</p><p>I nod. "I'm proud of what we achieved."</p><p>"You should be," he answers.</p><p>I raise my brows in surprise.</p><p>"I'm not saying I <em>like</em> it. Trust me, I don't. But you did it. So own it. And stop making excuses."</p><p>"You don't want me to apologise?" I ask confused.</p><p>He shakes his head.</p><p>"So what would you like me to do instead?"</p><p>He sighs, puts down his coffee. "Honestly... I've wanted to believe that the scheming for three weeks only affected business. That it wasn't personal."</p><p>"And it wasn't," I say immediately.</p><p>He shrugs. "Still feels like you played me." His cold stare changes into something much more vulnerable.</p><p>"I know," I sigh deeply. "I felt terrible." I mean it. Because I felt so deeply conflicted, knowing what was about to go down. And even though it really was a business move, I knew there would be collateral damage. And I underestimated the extent, or perhaps I close my eyes to it.</p><p>He's still just pensively staring at me.</p><p>"Of course I knew that it would change things between us," I continue. "But you have to admit, we hit a dead end, didn't we?"</p><p>He shakes his head. "I don't think that's true. We said we would talk, and we should have. We would have figured it out."</p><p>"I don't believe that," I reply a bit more stabby than I wanted to, but it's the honest response.</p><p>He shrugs. "I do."</p><p>Another silence. I only now notice the background music. The type of classical music you would expect at a funeral. This place is not what it used to be. Or we're not what it used to be. It's probably both.</p><p>"No," I then say firmly, my mind still racing. We were stuck. I don't know why he couldn't see that. How did he not see that we had nowhere to go, the two of us. There was nothing left to change or to figure out. Not at that point in time, at least.</p><p>"Maybe you were holding on to a fantasy." It's out before I realize.</p><p>It hurts him, I can tell. His jaw tightens.</p><p>"Or you never had the guts to pursue that very same fantasy," he answers.</p><p>I'm taken aback by that. I don't know what to respond. He sighs, shakes his head, but says nothing else. It keeps resonating in my head. It's an accusation and it hurts to hear him say that. I desperately try to think of another response, some sort of defence, but for a moment I seem lost for words.</p><p>"Are you aware we are closing the restaurant in fifteen minutes?" The waiter is standing next to our table, breaking the silence between us.</p><p><em>Thank God, </em>I think.</p><p>"No, we weren't," Will replies.</p><p>The waiter points to a massive sign in the hallway. "We have a reception in an hour."</p><p>
  <strong>Friday, 3:45 PM </strong>
</p><p>I decided to get up and pay for us. I couldn't stand sitting there any longer. We left in silence, and now he's holding the door of the exit for me.</p><p>The cold wind hits my cheeks as I step out the hotel. I bury my chin in my coat and look at Will. What do we do now. This conversation shouldn't end here.</p><p>"Can we walk for a little bit?" I ask.</p><p>"Sure," he nods.</p><p>"All right," I reply, relieved that he's willing to. And so we walk through Chicago's streets.</p><p>"So, let me get this straight," I decide to continue. "You don't want me to apologise. Yet… you seem unhappy with everything I've said so far." I glance to his side to see his response.</p><p>He shrugs, hands buried in the pocket of his coat. "Maybe that's just the way it is. Might not be satisfactory to you, but… it is what it is."</p><p>"No," I shake my head. I'm not going to accept that.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"I don't like that." I stand still and look at him. "Do you?"</p><p>He shrugs, stares to the other side of my street, avoiding me. "It's been… conflicting."</p><p>"So can we please just talk about that?"</p><p>"Come on," he says and gestures to start walking again. We're silent for a minute before he speaks again.</p><p>"Maybe you were right. Maybe it was a fantasy. But something had opened up between us. Or perhaps never even closed, and the least it deserved was a conversation. A fair chance…"</p><p>He's right.</p><p>"… But you had already decided for us." he continues. "You made me <em>believe</em> that we would figure it out together. So you tricked me. You broke my trust and now you can prove to yourself that it didn't work. Because clearly, we can barely have a conversation."</p><p>That hurts. I stop my steps. "Will, that was <em>never </em>the intention."</p><p>He scoffs. "It certainly gave you an easy way out of… us. I get we were complicated."</p><p>"No, Will, listen," I place hand on his arm.</p><p>He looks at my hand, then straight into my eyes. He's clearly surprised by my touch. Maybe I am as well. My heart skips a beat as we stand there.</p><p>"I was starting to fall in love with you again," I say. I'm taken aback by my own honesty.</p><p>His eyes tell me he didn't expect me to say that.</p><p>"I didn't know how to get… past it." My voice breaks when I say that. "Because I couldn't… give you what you wanted."</p><p>Our eyes are still locked.</p><p>"I wasn't in a good place. The governorship… it was a strait-jacket I couldn't get off. And the backstabbing amongst the partners, the competition within the fourth years… I was hitting walls wherever I turned. I couldn't breathe. And I <em>needed</em> to break away from it all. To make a decision <em>for me</em>, and not for anyone else. Not for you, or for Peter, or my children. So that's what I did. I <em>had </em>to. And I <em>know </em>I hurt you, but it <em>wasn't </em>the intention. I didn't want to trick you into <em>anything</em>."</p><p>He swallows. Stares at me. Then I feel his hand on mine, a gentle squeeze. I feel a shiver run down my spine as he does. "Okay," he nods softly. Then he lets go.</p><p>"It's getting cold," he says.</p><p>It wasn't enough, I realize. It was honest, but I didn't say <em>everything</em>. And now I blew my chance.</p><p>"Maybe it's time to go," I just respond.</p><p>He looks around. "Yeah."</p><p>His phone buzzes. I see him read a text. He scoffs, shaking his head. Bad news, apparently.</p><p>As we head back, I realise my car is around the corner. "Will, I'll take a left here. My car, is here."</p><p>"What, why?" He looks up from his phone and puts it back in his pocket.</p><p>I open my mouth but say nothing. I said enough already.</p><p>"Is that about the garage?" He asks. He knows me too well.</p><p>"Yeah," I try to respond casually as I look for my keys in the pocket of my coat.</p><p>"You know what. Do you have somewhere else to be?"</p><p>I look up to him, a bit surprised. "What?"</p><p>"Meeting got cancelled," he explains. "So, do you?"</p><p>I shake my head.</p><p>"Then's let go over there." He points to a bar at the side of the road. "Come on, one drink."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Preview for next chapter: And to the bar they went...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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